Teknomorphs 0: Actions and Consequences
by Cyblade Silver
Summary: Darkon's discipline... Chapter 74 is up. This story is FINISHED!
1. First Glimpses

Disclaimer: Strictly speaking, this story and all the others in this series aren't crossovers, since they all take place in the Animorphs universe. This is more of a fusion. Needless to say, the well-known charas from both universes do not belong to me, they belong to Saban, Scholastic and the great K.A. Applegate. Later!

****

Teknomorphs 0:

Actions and Consequences

****

Earth Date: 2637 BC

The Radam ship glided silently through space, temporarily invisible. Waiting for its prey with the patience of the dead. Fixed in the mind of every Teknoman aboard was the goal of eliminating another band of hated Tekkamen from the galaxy.

A Tekkaman ship soon arrived, the occupants of which were unaware that their eternal enemies were stalking them even now. Teknomen had developed a way of shielding themselves from even telepathic detection, at least as far as Tekkamen were concerned.

The Radam ship slowly dropped its cloak, shedding the last traces of invisibility as it closed in on its victim. The Tekkamen inside the other ship were ambushed quite effectively. None of them had ever believed that the Radam forces had the patience to wait out their enemies instead of forcing a head-on confrontation like they always did. Now they were learning otherwise.

The Radam Teknomen swarmed out of their ship like angry bees, ready to annihilate anything and everything in their path.

One of them was particularly eager, a brash young warrior named Darkblade. His teeth were bared in a bloodthirsty snarl under his black helmet. His attention was focused squarely on one of the Tekkamen opposite him: the one called Starfire. They had met before.

Tekkaman Starfire stared across the void of endless space; his thoughts were very far indeed from the endless war he now found himself a part of. He was thinking of the family he had left behind to pursue the uncertain life of a Tekkaman warrior. They were probably long dead by now, Tekkamen were immortal, and he had left so long ago that he barely remembered what they looked like.

Minor details were slowly fading from his mind as his everlasting life wore on. He could no longer remember his given name. But he supposed that did not matter, as his given name was no longer who he truly was.

Starfire sensed a Teknoman closing in on him, about his height, whose demonic armor was as black as space itself. Starfire's only forewarning was the almost palpable feeling of evil that followed the black Teknoman as he blazed toward his target.

This could only be the young Teknoman Darkblade. 

On the planet above which the two forces battled, one of the inhabitants watched from the shadow of a large stone pyramid. Her name was Sadira, she was a priestess of the god Horus. 

The lights in the sky she was staring at, however, were something very new.

Sadira knew they were not stars. For one thing, the sun was still in the sky. And Sadira knew that stars could not move that fast. And, even as she watched, a flare of bright light burst into existence and came racing toward one of the fainter lights.

As if the bright light was a danger, one of the fainter lights swung out of its way.

***

"Tekno-Flare!"

Kharis, a young Indimarian Teknoman shouted. Crimson energy gathered around him, focusing at a point between his hands. His target was a Tekkaman he'd fought once before. The one called Hiritari.

Kharis hated Hiritari more than any other Tekkaman. She was a fierce fighter but more than that, she was the only one who had ever defeated him in a battle.

Winding up and staring determinedly at Hiritari, Kharis didn't notice that she was engaged in battle with Juura. Kharis threw the blazing sphere of power at her.

***

Tekkaman Hiritari and Teknoman Juura had once been the best of friends, lovers in fact. But the Radam parasite implanted in Juura's body was ruthlessly determined to exterminate Hiritari, at any cost.

Hiritari fought only to protect herself, trying if it was at all possible not to injure Juura. Juura had no such concerns. All she cared about – that is to say all the Radam parasite would let her care about – was killing the one she once loved.

"Uhhhg!" Juura shouted, feeling the forceful impact of a Tekno-Flare in the small of her back. Whipping around, Juura saw her attacker. 

"Kharis, you _chikaitran_!"

Abandoning her attack on Hiritari, Juura raced toward Kharis. Juura had always harbored a deep animosity toward the other Teknoman. Kharis was the one that captured her, slicing off the arms of her lover in the process.

Enraged, but managing to hide it, Juura passed him by. Turning just as he was readying another Tekno-Flare, she flew up behind him. Removing her weapon from subspace, Juura thrust it into the small of Kharis' back.

Mouth open, but unable to scream, Kharis was helpless as Juura rammed her blade deeper into his torso. Pulling it halfway out, she forced it in further. Stopping only when she had reached the base of Kharis' neck.

Kicking his corpse off the her saber, Juura forgot about him. Meanwhile, not too far away, Starfire and Darkblade were engaged in melee combat. Darkblade's specialty.

Starfire knew better than to try and reason with a Teknoman, any Teknoman. He had tried once and the Teknoman, a tall light-colored male called Drae, responded by gouging out his left eye.

Starfire was healed in the Tekkasystem, but he would always carry the memory. Darkblade rammed into his right side, swinging his double-edged blade staff two-handed.

Dodging backward, but still catching the tip of the staff, Starfire covered the wound with an armored hand, trying to slow the loss of blood. Laughing, Darkblade circled back around.


	2. Departures and Regrets

The Tekkaman was weakened now. Darkblade snickered as he charged through the starlit expanse back toward his victim. Concentrating, he willed the meager light reflected by the planet to bend around his body, making him completely invisible.

Invisibility was one ability that Tekkamen and Teknomen did not share.

"Surprise!"

Out of empty space, Starfire felt a blade pierce his armored stomach. Gasping in pain, Starfire watched as Darkblade appeared directly in front of him. Laughing demonically and holding his bladed staff straight-armed.

"Well, well, well. Looks like I win, Starfire."

Starfire didn't say a word, even as Darkblade twisted his battle-staff deeper into his abdomen. He didn't want to give the murderous Teknoman any more satisfaction than his own death.

Darkblade watched as Starfire's dying body writhed on the end of his blade, idly wondering why the Tekkaman hadn't started screaming yet. It didn't matter much, but was interesting in a distant sort of way. Ripping the blade out of Starfire's body, he took a moment to admire the sparkling droplets of blood trailing out.

And to watch them slowly freeze in the subzero environment.

Grabbing Starfire's left arm, Darkblade activated his rockets and accelerated toward the planet below. Feeling the slightest wisp of atmosphere, Darkblade accelerated further.

***

Sadira watched as a light, brighter than the others, turned into a burning trail of fire in the sky. Standing her ground, Sadira watched it grow larger.

***

Chuckling menacingly, Darkblade hurled Starfire's nearly lifeless body into the planet's atmosphere. Watching with detached interest as friction burned a blazing trail of flame behind it, he chuckled more softly this time.

__

Very amusing, Darkblade.

Reading my thoughts again, are you Omega?

An amused chuckle soundlessly rolled through his mind. Darkblade sighed, laughing a bit himself. As much as Omega had taught him, he still had yet to find a way to keep his leader from knowing his thoughts.

__

The little warrior wants some time alone? Omega asked, feigning hurt.

__

Omega, you know me too well.

Yes of course. I have _known you for sixteen years._

I know. I just want to get out on my own for awhile. To see the universe on my own terms.

You'll then come back to me?

I will. I promise.

When?

When I'm ready.

It was Omega's turn to sigh, knowing there wasn't a chance of him unmaking Darkblade's decision once it had been made. Omega soared over to where Darkblade hovered, still staring down at the unnamed planet.

__

What fascinates you so, little warrior?

I just feel as if I'll be coming back to this place, someday.

Omega thought that over. It was Darkblade's uncanny ability to see visions that had won the Radam many victories. He had even predicted the Radam attack on his own planet. It was only the fact that most of his people hadn't heeded his warning that had allowed the Radam forces to claim their victory.

***

Looking at the fallen light lying at her feet, Sadira was at a loss for words. The light was not light at all, but a being made of some pale blue metal. Walking closer, she no longer felt the oppressive heat she had before. Stepping into the hollow that the being had made for itself, Sadira knelt next to it.

It appeared otherworldly, and Sadira supposed it was some sort of god. Laying a hand on the god's arm, Sadira was stunned by the voice, seemingly coming from the god's mind.

__

P-please…Please help me…

His voice was very weak, and when Sadira took a closer look at him she knew why. She could see the deep wound in his lower body, not wasting time, she called for help.

***

Omega watched as Darkblade attacked, knowing that he would depart as soon as the fighting had ended. Omega felt a curious mixture of things about Darkblade's impending departure. Part of it was a purely professional, and thus easily understood, feeling of regret that one of his better fighters was leaving.

But the other part was less definitive, it was almost a feeling of sadness. Omega wondered about that, surely Darkblade was not anything more to him than a friend? But if that was so, then why did Omega feel as if his own heart was being torn out?

__

Perhaps there is something more to this, but I will not_ interfere with his departure._

Omega turned away then, focusing on his own battle, he did not want to watch Darkblade leave.


	3. Death of a Tekkaman

The god, whose name – Sadira had learned – was Starfire, lay on a raised stone table. The healers had tried their best, but they had not been able to do anything more than ease Starfire's pain. Sadira now sat beside him, holding his blue metal hand.

Imhotep, the chief of the healers, came in then, shaking his head softly.

"He will not survive these wounds."

"What could have done this?" Sadira wondered.

"While we attempted to heal him, Starfire spoke of a dark blade that had injured him."

Starfire thrashed and moaned, speaking words in a language neither of them had heard until now.

"La- Lalai- Lalaidria! NO!"

Starfire clawed the air, kicking and screaming more strange words. Sadira took hold of his legs, even as Imhotep struggled to restrain his shoulders. Eventually, Starfire started to become calmer, the screams trailing off into incoherent moans.

"What has happened?" Sadira asked, as soon as Starfire's shrill screams had ceased.

"I do not know. Perhaps we should ask him," Imhotep suggested.

Starfire groaned softly, bright spots the color of the sky shining like eyes. Sadira gently stroked his forehead, where a crystalline teardrop flashed in strange, disjointed bursts.

"Starfire? What has happened to you?"

"Lalaidria," he answered, sounding shaken. "She has been- " Starfire nearly choked on the word "destroyed."

Before either Sadira or Imhotep could say a word, Starfire sat up, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Sadira was about to ask him who Lalaidria was, when he began softly to weep. Abandoning her intentions of questioning him, Sadira wrapped her arms around Starfire's shoulders.

It was odd, feeling cool metal against her skin instead of warm flesh, but the metal was soft, and seemed almost alive. Sadira began to stroke Starfire's midnight blue hair, it was rougher than she expected, almost like spun silver.

Everything about Starfire was metal, and Sadira surmised that he was a god of metalsmiths. But who was Lalaidria? Holding Starfire as he wept, and gently rocking him as if he were a child, Sadira realized that Lalaidria must have been Starfire's wife.

Kissing where his lips would be if he had a mouth, Sadira turned to Imhotep. Softly calling him over, she whispered softly in his ear, not wanting to upset Starfire further.

"His wife has died,"

"He will be with her soon, but I know why he still grieves."

Imhotep softly patted the top of Starfire's head, giving what small comfort he could to the suffering god. Sadira noticed it first, but Imhotep was not far behind. Starfire had ceased to weep, and somehow they both knew why.

"He is at peace with Lalaidria now," Imhotep said morosely.

Sadira only nodded a little sadly, running her fingers through Starfire's metal hair. She knew that they would now be required to tell Pharaoh Djoser of their discovery, and he would insist that Starfire be buried as was befitting a god.

Sadira was not averse to any of this, but she still felt wrong having to leave Starfire, even for the short time it would take to inform Pharaoh Djoser. Turning to Imhotep, Sadira spoke.

"I wish to stay with Starfire, if that is acceptable to you."

Imhotep nodded

"I am sure Pharaoh Djoser will understand," he said, walking away.

Sadira leaned her cheek against Starfire's head, and just let her thoughts scatter to the wind. Sadira had not the slightest idea how long she had stood there, staring at nothing, but the first thing she clearly noticed were the priests. One of them was looking at her.

"Priestess Sadira," the priest, who Sadira now remembered was called Narros, addressed her in respectful tones.

"Yes, Priest Narros?" Sadira answered in the same tone.

"Pharaoh Djoser wishes to see this god, Starfire."

"Of course."

Narros, Sadira and the other priests lifted Starfire's body, now limp and doll-like, and carried it to the main citadel, where Pharaoh Djoser was waiting.

***

The battle was over. Darkblade had watched as the damaged Tekkaman ship fell into the atmosphere of the planet. Darkblade felt that he would return to this planet, but it didn't feel like the right time. Turning away, Darkblade fired his rockets and accelerated into the ethereal darkness.

Omega saw the flare of crimson light, and turned to watch as it arrowed into the blackness.

"Goodbye, little warrior."

Darkblade blazed away, no particular destination in mind. But he had eternity, and there was an entire universe just waiting to be explored…


	4. Fate's Game

****

Earth date: 1972 AD

Darkblade was restless, he knew this sector of space better than he knew his own thoughts. The only planet in the sector was an ugly ball of dust with three dead moons. Darkblade hadn't yet gone to the surface to explore.

The planet deeply offended his sense of aesthetics.

Just as he was turning to leave, a most unusual spacecraft appeared in a flash of white, almost seeming to stretch back into existence. The ship was nearly as black as his own armor, and looked like something a Teknoman might wield in battle.

Darkblade cocked his head, intrigued. He resolved to follow this odd weapon-like craft. To his dismay, the ship was headed for the hideous barren green-and-yellow planet. Shaking his head, Darkblade wondered what a species that had made such an elegant ship could be doing on a world that repulsive.

Flying directly under the shaft of the weapon-ship, Darkblade watched the unsightly planet grow larger. Friction turned both him and the ship into blazing fires in the sky, and Darkblade reveled in it. He had almost forgotten what a thrill atmospheric re-entry could be.

The flames died out as he decelerated, taking his cue from the black spacecraft. Both he and the ship slowed till they were hovering motionless in the still air, Darkblade could now see that the planet had a reasonably well equipped spaceport. And that the inhabitants were as ugly as their planet.

Disgusting, oozing worm-like creatures with a multitude of clicking red legs scuttled toward the elegant black ship. Darkblade was tempted to obliterate them, but wanted to see what the pilots of the craft would do to the creatures. Willing himself invisible, not wanting the worms to see or touch him, Darkblade waited and watched the craft settle to the ground.

An entryway irised open, and out of it stepped a creature that Darkblade had never seen before. It was a biped, as was he, but there was nothing beyond a superficial similarity between them. This new creature walked on talons and had a distinctly reptilian appearance. An avian beak, as well as a long counterbalancing tail and a truly grand selection of obviously biological blades made for quite a fearsome figure.

"Fantastic," Darkblade whispered, settling slowly to the ground himself.

As his armored feet touched the soil, he willed himself to de-transform. The strain of remaining in Tekno-form was beginning to wear on him. As soon as the bioenergy surging through him had faded to its normal level, he noted the dryness of the air.

He also noticed the stench, doubtless it was coming from the worm-creatures. Suddenly, one of the worms turned in his direction. Several more did likewise, and Darkblade tensed, wondering what would come next.

***

Sub-Visser Seven strode calmly out of the Blade Ship and onto the barren dust of the Taxxon planet. His Hork-Bajir body was not adapted for this kind of climate, but he had learned to cope. He hated this kind of menial transport work with a passion but since he was not yet a full Visser, he was forced to endure it.

The Taxxon technicians who had come to examine the ship were behaving oddly, they were all staring at empty air and gnashing their round mouths. One of them lunged, and then something impossible happened.

The Taxxon split open like it had been sliced by a fast moving blade, only there was nothing there. Another Taxxon fell, this one having been cleanly decapitated. Sub-Visser Seven watched in amazement as the apparently invisible attacker dispatched all nine Taxxons.

***

Darkblade finished off the last of the worms, and that was when he caught sight of the bladed creature. It was staring, not precisely at him but at his victims.

"I suppose you would have called them off," he said insolently.

***

Sub-Visser Seven blinked, completely at a loss. He had not been prepared for anything like this, he decided to attempt to draw this new creature into the open, so to speak.

"Called what off?"

"Your slave worms," the insolent voice responded.

As the last word was spoken, the air distorted, but only in a small area. A bipedal figure warped slowly into existence. The look on the creature's face was as insolent as his tone.

***

Darkblade willed himself visible, a smug smile firmly on his lips The bladed creature was staring at him in complete astonishment. But there was a shrewdness in those eyes, nearly as red as his own, that intrigued him. This was surely going to be interesting.

The creature held out its hand, beckoning Darkblade forward, Darkblade took it, and the creature led him away from his impromptu battleground.

"Do you have a name?"

"Perhaps," Darkblade shrugged, deliberately vague.

"Will you tell me it?" the creature asked shortly.

"In time," Darkblade said with the utmost carelessness.

He was pelted with queries, but ignored all of them. Finally they came to what seemed to be the creature's objective. More of the worms were there, as well as more creatures.

"Take him!"

Darkblade was tackled by one of the creature's fellows, and though he was not hurt, he was slightly angry. But more than that Darkblade was curious. And so he let himself be handled.

Hanging limply in the creature's arms, Darkblade waited.

The apparent leader, the one who had encountered him when he first landed, did something most unusual then. Placing his hands awkwardly but gently on the sides of Darkblade's head, the creature pressed his ear to Darkblade's.

Was this some kind of greeting? Some kind of alien ceremony? Darkblade felt something warm touch his left ear, then the thing started pushing against his ear. Darkblade felt the thing writhing its way in, it was slightly painful at first, but soon faded to just a background sensation.

When the sensation had passed, Darkblade felt a second presence in his mind. But not the obvious and forceful presence of a fellow Teknoman, nor the almost overpowering presence of a Tekno-Warlord. This was several times weaker, but closer somehow.


	5. Of like kind

Sub-Visser Seven abandoned his Hork-Bajir host, fully intending to find out how this alien had managed to slip past planetary control, and where he had hidden his ship.

__

Fascinating.

Sub-Visser Seven was prepared to face resistance, not to be greeted openly. And the mind within his new body was calm, assured, it was as if nothing could ever disturb his new host.

__

Host? I think not my friend.

Yes, host. My slave.

The Sub-Visser's new host did something utterly unexpected then: he started to laugh. He laughed long and hard, mocking laughter that seemed to spring from an innate belief in his own invincibility. As if the very idea of being a slave was absurd.

__

Yes, most amusing.

Perhaps you will learn better over time, slave.

__

Perhaps you_ shall learn better in a few moments, friend._

The Hork-Bajir that had been holding his host for infestation reeled back. He realized then that his host had kicked the Hork-Bajir. He felt a surge of energy, and then everything went black.

It seemed is if he was only unaware for a few seconds, but when he could see again, everything was tinted a distinct shade of red. He tried, and failed, to regain control of his host.

***

Darkblade chuckled, as once again the weakling telepath attempted to gain the upper hand. He had already transformed, and so felt completely at ease in what was quickly becoming a melee. Darkblade allowed the weakling a fleeting, momentary glimpse of victory, before brushing him aside like the annoyance he was.

The worms were not even worth the meager effort of a Tek-blast, as they were quite handily eliminated with his wrist blade. And as a bonus, their fellows took care of the wounded very nicely. The bladed creatures were hardier, and Darkblade had no qualms about vaporizing them.

The weakling's continuing efforts were becoming tiresome though, and Darkblade finally decided to opt for a more direct approach to the problem.

__

Open your eyes, nalshai_. I want you to see this._

Of course, that was only to get the weakling's attention.

How is this possible?!

__

Anything is possible, nalshai_._

No host has _ever_ overpowered a Yeerk!

Darkblade ignored the self-proclaimed Yeerk's mindless ranting, as well as his few laughable threats. Concentrating, he felt his bioenergy level rising, focused through two distinct points on his body: his shoulders. When he could barely control the power roiling inside him, Darkblade released it.

"Tekno-bolt!"

The blazing crimson fury obliterated almost all of his opponents, and that _did_ manage to shut the Yeerk up, if only for a few moments. Darkblade landed again and looked over the remaining creatures. The worms had all been annihilated.

They were running in terror, but that didn't matter. No pitiful, ground-crawling weakling could hope to outrun a Teknoman. Darkblade landed, wanting to have a little fun.

"You, you, you, or _you_," Darkblade chuckled, orienting on a creature to his middle-right.

His intended victim had a substantial lead, which was of very little consequence since it could not save him. Darkblade had chosen him, so he would die. Flying horizontally, it was almost childishly easy to overtake him, throw him to the ground, and pin him there with the tip of one armored foot.

It would have been just as simple to obliterate him with a Tek-blast, but Darkblade was in the worst possible mood: a playful one. This did not bode well for the creature. Grasping the creature by the neck, Darkblade flipped him on his stomach.

Tracing along the creature's neck to just between his shoulder blades, Darkblade dug his armored fingertip into his back. Chuckling softly, Darkblade withdrew his hand, only to slam it into the creature's spinal column with bone-shattering force. Punching almost casually through flesh and muscle, Darkblade closed his fist around the creature's spine and snapped it like a brittle twig.

Instantly the creature's struggling ceased. Breaking the many ribs that had held the spine in place, Darkblade ripped it free. Using his staff he severed the remaining bones, as well as the nerves, going from between the shoulder blades to the base of the tail and finally severing the spinal cord itself.


	6. Parting Ways

Sub-Visser Seven watched, sickened and afraid, as his host ripped the spine out of a Hork-Bajir Controller. He had learned almost nothing about this host, since he found that it was impossible for him to circumvent the mental barriers the other had erected. He knew only what he had observed, he knew that this creature was capable of tapping into vast amounts of energy at will, he also knew that the other had hidden blades somewhere.

One that retracted into his left wrist, and another that seemed to appear and disappear randomly. He did not know why the other was here, or anything useful. It took him a little time, but he realized that the other was yelling.

"Run, you pathetic cowards, and I might spare your worthless lives!"

Laughing, the other flew after the retreating Hork-Bajir Controllers. Still brandishing the spine of his latest victim like some kind of sick trophy. Sub-Visser Seven could not understand this, there was no point. The other was clearly more powerful, so why did he not just take what he wanted?

__

Oh, come now. Surely one as intelligent as yourself could figure it out.

Why are you doing this?!

__

Can't you guess?

There is no rational explanation!

__

I suppose, then, that simple pleasure is never rational, the other purred.

Pleasure?! This creature was killing Hork-Bajir and Taxxon Controllers for pleasure?!

__

What other reason would I have?

Sub-Visser Seven had no response, and so the exchange ended. Sub-Visser Seven had never considered killing to be anything pleasurable. But now, now that he was watching someone who had obviously been doing things like this for longer than he could imagine, he saw the possibility of it.

__

Ahh, so you're coming around, are you?

Perhaps, the Sub-Visser answered, mimicking the other's tone from when they had first met. The other chuckled.

__

You are _amusing,_ he purred.

They were closing in on another Hork-Bajir Controller.

__

Hork-Bajir Controller? Is that what these creatures are called?

Just Hork-Bajir, actually. Controller is just a term for any member of any species that has one of my people inside their head. If I may ask, what does your species call itself?

__

You may ask, but what makes you think that I would tell you?

I was only - 

__

Navari.

That brought him up short, and then Sub-Visser Seven started laughing, he was beginning to realize that this was simply the other's way.

You enjoy toying with me, don't you?

__

Why my friend, whatever could have made you think that?

The Sub-Visser could read the barely contained laughter in that rhetorical question, and that set them both off. The two conquerors, Yeerk and Navari together laughed long and hard. They were by no means equals, but they had found a bit of common ground.

It wasn't to last.

***

Darkblade kicked the legs out from under a Hork-Bajir, slicing its head open with his wrist blade as it fell. He was starting to rather enjoy the company of the Yeerk, one so much like himself.

They were sharing stories now. And even though the facts he gave this Yeerk were shaded, twisted so as not to reveal or even hint at the existence of the other Radam, he truly enjoyed speaking to another who could understand the true thrill of conquest.

He was distracted from the Yeerk's latest tale, however, when he caught sight of something inside the Hork-Bajir's head. Something he suspected did not belong there. Grabbing hold of the Hork-Bajir by the bottom of its jaw, Darkblade tore the top of its head off. Seeing the brain for the first time in its gruesome entirety, Darkblade peeled a gray layer of clinging slime off of the still-pulsing organ.

It was not a simple matter, and in the end he brought his stronger will to bear. It turned out that this was a creature in itself. A small, aquatic-looking creature. Not much bigger than his own hand.

A wave of utter revulsion swept through him, this _thing_ was covered in a thick layer of slime that he could see clearly with his enhanced vision. Though thankfully he could not feel it. Wanting to know what the truly loathsome little alien he now held in his hand was, he nudged Sub-Visser Seven's mind.

__

What is _this?_ he demanded.

It took a small amount of time, but soon the Sub-Visser answered.

That? he chuckled softly. That is one of my people.

Darkblade's mouth twisted into a snarl, and he growled softly.

__

This _is a Yeerk?_ he positively hissed.

Yes. What did you think we were? Sub-Visser Seven asked, oblivious.

Darkblade growled louder, and crushed the Yeerk in his fist. His eyes narrowed to slits, enraged and disgusted at the very thought of having such a vile thing inside his body. The remains of the Yeerk dripped from his fist, as he opened his hand and held it up for the other Yeerk to see.

__

I want you out. he growled, feeling the Yeerk's mind.

But, I cannot - 

__

NOW!

Not waiting for another reply, Darkblade attacked telepathically. Ripping violently into the other's mind with skill honed by thousands of years. The Yeerk screamed.

__

Leave. My. Body.

I – Ahhhh! I can't!

__

Pity, I'll just have to kill you then.

NO! Your helmet, it's blocking me. I can't leave!Darkblade held his hand up for one last inspection, coldly examining the remains of the dead Yeerk.

__

If you are trying to deceive me, there are other ways to suffer.

I – I know, he could feel the Yeerk's fear. The bioenergy again surged and dissipated, leaving Darkblade clad in a simple black tunic. The energy explosion had purged the remains of the Yeerk from his hand, and he turned from the corpse of the Hork-Bajir without a thought.

__

Leave. Now.

I need a host, if I am expected to survive.

__

Who says I want that?

Darkblade looked back at the Hork-Bajir, it would be of no use. It was already as dead as its Yeerk. Willing himself invisible, wanting to have this miserable task over and done with as quickly as possible, Darkblade set about stalking another Hork-Bajir. The ones that hadn't died by his hand had fled, and since he did not know this world, he would have to seek the advice of one who did.

__

Where would your fellows go in the event of an attack?

We – we never planned for anything like this, the Yeerk said, cowering in his corner of the mind.

__

You are fools, then, Darkblade sneered.

Ignoring the Yeerk once again, Darkblade set off on his hunt. Slipping effortlessly into the mental patterns of the predator he truly was, the ancient Radam warrior moved off into the desert.


	7. Officers

Imprisoned, that was all Sub-Visser Seven could think of, he was imprisoned again. And this Navari, one who he had come to consider a friend of sorts, had coldly murdered one of his fellows. Had actually murdered several, but now he knew what the Yeerk race truly was, and he hated them for it.

The Sub-Visser had never before felt such disgust, such utter hatred, even in the minds of his various hosts. Fear had always been the dominant emotion, that and confusion. He realized that he did not even know the Navari's name, even with all they had told each other, all the stories of past conquests they had shared, he didn't know.

And now he was back in his little mental cell, trapped until the Navari found another host for him. Or until he decided to kill him. He thought death to be the more likely outcome, given how much the Navari hated him now.

He lost track of time, until a forceful voice snarled at him.

__

Get out.

Without a word, Sub-Visser Seven slunk out of the Navari's ear-canal. Unexpectedly, there was another ear waiting for him. A Hork-Bajir, he knew the feel of their ears. So this was to be his new host.

***

As the Yeerk slithered out of his head, Darkblade had the urge to just kill the little creature and be done with it. He fought it, his othersense told him that this creature would have an important role to play in the future. What that was, Darkblade didn't know. But his othersense had guided him to victory before, and so he would trust it once again.

Darkblade watched the Hork-Bajir Controller turn to face him.

"Why did you - ?"

"For reasons I do not yet understand," Darkblade snapped, cutting him off.

"Will you at least tell me your name?"

A quick footsweep knocked the impudent Controller to the ground. Summoning his staff, Darkblade stabbed at the Controller. Stopping only when the tip of his blade rested between the Hork-Bajir's eyes.

"I do not give my name to inferiors. And you, slime crawler, are as inferior as they come," Darkblade spat contemptuously.

Turning on his heel, Darkblade stared into the sky of the desert world. Transforming, he cast one last glance at the Sub-Visser in his new body and let his eyes glow a warning crimson. Lest the Sub-Visser get any stupid ideas about pursuing him.

Igniting his rockets, the Teknoman took to the sky and was soon moving too swiftly for any ship to catch. Once Darkblade was back in space, he headed for familiar territory. A place he had been spending more and more time at of late.

As soon as he had glimpsed the well-known shape of the space station, Darkblade knew he was home.

__

What passes as home for me I suppose, he brooded. The wall of Radam tentacles opened at his approach. Striding past other Teknomen, some sleeping in their teknopods some just restlessly haunting the corridors, Darkblade made his way to Nalshanda's audience chamber.

Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda was a mystery to Darkblade. The Warlord seemed to be bereft of the normal emotions, bereft in fact of any kind of emotion. He was old, older than Darkblade, maybe even a little older than Omega himself.

__

I swore to myself I would not think of him, Darkblade berated himself. Thinking of Omega would only distract him, and he needed to focus. He was a Radam Teknoman, a warrior. That was all that he could be.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind with an effort, he continued walking. Passing through a last wall of tentacles, Darkblade stood in front of Nalshanda's throne. Kneeling, the Teknoman waited for the Warlord to notice him.

***

Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda shifted in his teknopod, wings folding out of his line of vision as he sensed the presence of another. One crimson eye opened, blazing with a fury more powerful than any Teknoman. Recognizing Darkblade, Nalshanda hissed softly.

He had been hoping that the young Teknoman had left his station for the last time. Baring his half-inch canines behind the cover of his mostly folded wings, Nalshanda watched the young one kneel. Closing his eye, Nalshanda waited.

***

Darkblade knelt outside the half-length Radam tentacles that made up Nalshanda's throne. A Teknoman did not call on a Warlord when they were sleeping, and so with some difficulty he restrained himself. Nalshanda's thoughts and feelings were mostly opaque, closed off to him and all the other Teknomen, but Darkblade was by no means stupid.

He knew the Warlord was only barely tolerating his presence. And then only because Omega had threatened the other Warlord with a slow, painful death if he didn't.

__

Omega again, why do I always find my thoughts circling back to him?

Darkblade shook the thoughts of his long-ago commander out of his mind, this was hardly the time. The tentacles shifted out of his line of sight, allowing him a clear view of Nalshanda's teknopod. Bowing his head slightly, Darkblade watched as the red-winged Tekno-Warlord stepped out of his pod.


	8. Destiny and Nalshanda

Nalshanda's body-length wings were wrapped around him, since it always took a little time to recover garments from subspace. Darkblade lowered his gaze to the floor as he heard the distinct sound of Nalshanda's wings unfolding.

__

Report, young one, he ordered curtly.

That was another thing that annoyed Darkblade. Where he had at least had the courtesy to address the Warlord by his name, as well his title, Nalshanda had never even acknowledged him as a Teknoman. Gritting his teeth and keeping his head lowered, Darkblade pushed his annoyance aside.

__

Yes, Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda.

Darkblade lowered his mental barriers and felt Nalshanda enter his thoughts. Memory-sharing was the way of Teknomen, and much simpler than wasting time with words. Images flowed through his mind as he remembered, the planet, the Hork-Bajir, the Yeerks.

Memories of the Sub-Visser were the most vivid though, however much he hated the vile little Yeerk.

__

You told him about us, Nalshanda hissed.

__

I told him about myself_, Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda._

Darkblade gasped in pain as Nalshanda pressed on his mind, tearing through it for an explanation. Nalshanda had never possessed the finer traits such as subtlety or patience, and Darkblade often suffered for that lack. Much as he did now. He felt a rivulet of blood trickling out of his right ear, as his body reacted to the telepathic intrusion.

Seeming satisfied, Nalshanda's awareness disappeared from his mind without warning. Darkblade hardly had time to breathe a soft sigh of relief, before Nalshanda spoke again.

__

This Sub-Visser could become a threat. I want you to follow him, take one of the tek-seeds with you, and do not return.

There could be no possible doubt that Nalshanda enjoyed this. Darkblade gritted his teeth again, a threat? A _threat?!_ The Sub-Visser's mind was weaker than that of a Galia drone, and that was saying something.

__

Are you questioning my orders? Nalshanda demanded.

Questioning his orders? Darkblade felt like laughing, and bit the tip of his tongue in an effort not to do so.

__

Questioning orders indeed.

He was questioning what little reason Nalshanda possessed. A low, angry growl alerted Darkblade, and pain shot through his head as Nalshanda attacked telepathically. His mouth open in a silent scream, Darkblade felt the gash in his ear widening, and tasted his own blood as the skin of his throat split open.

__

Never_ question me again, is that clear?_

Perfectly.

Turning swiftly away, not even bothering to watch the tentacle-wall reform itself, Darkblade stalked out. He was seething with rage. Being sent off on some trivial errand, after a creature who could not in any way be considered a threat to any but the weakest Radam warrior was the worst insult Nalshanda had ever dealt him.

Hands tightly fisted at his sides, Darkblade stared resolutely, unblinkingly forward. A fellow Teknoman, one Darkblade had often conversed with named Shaika, came upon him just as he had reached the teknopod he had come to consider his own.

__

Is something the matter my friend?

Oh no, everything is utterly perfect_,_ Darkblade sent, his thoughts practically dripping with false sincerity.

_Nalshanda has offended you again, I take it._

The teknopod glowed an intense crimson, before bursting open to reveal a single large yellowish-red ovoid. A tek-seed. Given enough time, a single one could spawn an entire brood of teknopods. Removing it, he turned back to Shaika.

__

Better than that Shaika, I have been discharged.

Discharged? What would provoke him to that? Granted, he is not fond of you, but you are_ an able warrior._

Storing the tek-seed in subspace, Darkblade leaned his forehead against Shaika's. Letting his mental barriers fall once again, he relaxed in a way Nalshanda's presence had not allowed him to. Shaika stroked his hair and he felt somewhat better, Darkblade almost wanted to laugh. This entire situation seemed so inane when examined from a different vantage point.

__

So then, laugh.

Were it only that simple, Shaika. Besides, I would never want to belittle Nalshanda's gracious_ hospitality._

You and your insincere sincerity, I cannot even tell when you are being completely forthright anymore, Shaika lamented, his tone hovering between playful and offended.

__

Oh, come now Shaika, we have known one another for thousands of years. Have you ever known me to be completely_ forthright?_

Do you truly wish for me to answer that?

Darkblade laughed then, long and hard, until he would have fallen had Shaika not been there to support him. Once he had regained his composure Darkblade smiled at his old friend, Shaika grinned back, brushing a gentle kiss against the other's forehead.

Leaning their heads together, the two said a last, silent farewell. Turning, Darkblade strode off down the corridors leading to the main airlock. Transforming once he was out of Shaika's line of sight, Darkblade flew for the remainder of his journey. Reaching the open airlock he didn't pause and he didn't look back, instead giving his rockets more power.

His eyes shone with brilliant crimson light as he set off on his hunt. An animalistic rage making them glow all the brighter. Hunting down one being aboard one ship, even when you knew your hunting ground as well as Darkblade knew this quadrant of the galaxy, was not going to be an easy task. Perhaps this was how his fate and that of the Sub-Visser's were intertwined.


	9. Hunter's Mission

__

Or perhaps I am just trying to comfort myself while on this fool's errand, Darkblade thought bitterly. Gritting his teeth for the third time that day, Darkblade forced himself to fly onward. Nalshanda would sense him if he turned back toward the station, and Darkblade had no desire to start a fight he knew he'd lose.

So he turned his mind to his task, and tried not to feel the burning rage that threatened to consume him whenever he thought too much about it. A hunter should not be distracted by such things. All he had to do right now was find the black ship and follow it.

__

Such a simple matter, really.

The glow of his eyes faded slowly as Darkblade let the murderous rage slip away. Sighing softly he accelerated further, ripping through space for as long as his body could sustain that kind of speed. Finally tiring, Darkblade stopped and considered his next move.

The most rational place to look for the Sub-Visser was on the planet where they had first encountered one another. However, he had not left the Sub-Visser in the most rational of moods. Perhaps he had already departed. And then again, perhaps he had not.

__

I suppose there is no harm in searching.

With that unspoken decision, Darkblade turned back towards the desert world. Flying slowly at first so as to give his body time to regain the strength he had expended in that initial burst. After he felt refreshed enough, Darkblade accelerated a bit, careful not to push himself too far too soon.

Retracing the path he had taken brought him once again to the desert world of the Taxxons. Hovering above the planet, he found it to be just as unappealing as when he'd left it. Diving through the atmosphere, feeling the heat of the flames, and landing invisibly on the surface brought back many memories.

Most of them were unwelcome, and so it was with some hesitation that Darkblade opened his mind partway and started to search. Briefly touching the minds of every Hork-Bajir Controller he encountered, Darkblade soon discovered that his initial assessment had been correct. The Sub-Visser was still on the planet, that made Darkblade's task somewhat easier.

__

At least I will not be required to hunt him down through the cosmos. 

Sighing inaudibly, he continued walking. The thoughts of the Yeerks were on the strange armored creature that had attacked them earlier. None but himself and the Sub-Visser knew the reason, but even the Sub-Visser did not know the true identity of his attacker and one-time host.

The secret of the Radam could not be revealed to anyone, save the species' that they had conquered. Brushing past a shuffling Taxxon, Darkblade caught the tail end of a thought. Something about robots. 

Darkblade dismissed it. Finally Darkblade sensed a familiar thought pattern, turning toward the source he caught sight of five Hork-Bajir Controllers. One seemed to be giving the other four orders, mixed in with a copious amount of threats. Darkblade instantly recognized that style of so-called command.

__

Ahh, my old friend the Sub-Visser. Darkblade thought derisively.

Slipping quietly in behind the five, Darkblade followed them at a discreet distance. The argument had been resolved with the killing of one of the underling Hork-Bajir, which had quickly shut the other three up. The Sub-Visser wanted to get on his ship and leave this planet. And he didn't seem to care that it would defy his superior's orders if he did so.

Jumping to give himself the necessary height, Darkblade flew alongside the four remaining Hork-Bajir Controllers. They came to their ship in short order, one of those elegant black ships. Darkblade smiled under his helmet, feeling somewhat pleased that he would be traveling on one of those ships and not on the ugly ovoid ships with the spears sticking out of the front.

Picking out a nice secluded spot, just under the left blade, he hovered there. Retrieving the tek-seed, he pressed it up against the hull and watched as small tendrils grew from the bottom, anchoring the seed to the ship. The advantage of Radam biotechnology was that it needed very little time in atmosphere to survive, and could be sustained on the bioenergy from a Teknoman. Watching the Controllers board their ship, Darkblade prepared to leave the planet for the second time.

He heard the roar of the engines and pushed his own rockets, soaring with the ship as it accelerated out of the atmosphere. His eyes flashed, a small sign of just how confident he was. He knew he would have to retire to the safety of the pod, once the seed had grown into one, but for now he was content to fly along unnoticed beneath the ship.

Letting himself slip into a sort of trance, which was useful when he was in transit on long reconnaissance missions, and moreso now that he was wont to be so occupied more often then not lately. His body seemed to separate from his mind, leaving it operating on a kind of autopilot. And leaving his mind free to wander where it chose.

As so often before, his thoughts turned to Omega. Darkblade almost stopped breathing, why did his thoughts stray so much to his absent commander? It had been thousands of years since they had last seen one another, so why could Darkblade call to mind in such vivid detail the sound of his voice? Shaking off those errant musings, Darkblade came out of his trance. Sometimes it was best not to think.

It was some time later that he noticed it, but by then the ship was clearly heading for the Taxxon world again. Darkblade figured that one of the Sub-Visser's superiors had learned of his defiance and ordered him to remain at his post. It had happened to Darkblade himself often enough, but only while he had been serving under Nalshanda.

Omega had been perfectly willing to place him somewhere else if he wandered away from a particularly uninteresting assignment. Darkblade shook his head, cutting off that chain of thought before it could become anything more that a comparison between his two commanders. They were soon back on the Taxxon planet.

Bored, but not particularly wanting to fight off Hork-Bajir or Taxxons, Darkblade cloaked. For lack of anything better to do, Darkblade turned his attention to the seed. It was beginning to grow, pulsing softly as it expanded, and he could see it subtly shifting colors. The hue darkening from the orange-red of an immature seed to the purplish-magenta of a mature teknopod.

His othersense twinged briefly, and he turned to stare at the horizon. Something was happening, something important, though in what way Darkblade couldn't be sure. But the feeling soon passed, and Darkblade didn't pause to consider it.


	10. Foolish Hope

Far away from the Blade ship where Darkblade waited semi-patiently to leave the Taxxon world once again, Sub-Visser Seven was also waiting. Not as patiently as the former, since he had no greater desire than to be as far from the planet he was currently on as his ship could carry him, but so far he had refrained from killing any more of his troops.

Something caught his attention then, something that was very wrong. One of the Taxxon workers had fallen off a mag-lev track. Now, in and of itself that was quite normal, it was even expected of the stupid creatures. Taxxons, after all, were not the most coordinated species in the Yeerk Empire.

But one of the Taxxons seemed to be moving _away_ from the wounded one, struggling to fight the cannibalistic instincts of the worm. This was most intriguing to the Sub-Visser. Once the Taxxon had managed to find a refuge under one of the larger ship-cradles, Sub-Visser Seven gathered a small contingent of his fellow Hork-Bajir Controllers and moved in quickly to confront the Taxxon.

They soon had the strange Taxxon surrounded, aiming Dracon beams at him. Despite the rather obvious fact that Hork-Bajir did not need weapons to deal with a Taxxon. In a cordial, almost jovial voice, the Sub-Visser addressed the anomalous Taxxon.

"Welcome to the Taxxon homeworld, friend. I am Sub-Visser Seven. You interest me. Indeed, I am _very_ interested in any Taxxon who will not eat fresh meat. And you, you seem to have gone out of your way to avoid it. Come," Sub-Visser Seven said, grinning. "We have much to discuss."

The Taxxon almost seemed to be about to run away, before he accepted the futility of such a tactic. Sub-Visser Seven and his underlings led him to the nearest mag-lev car, commandeering it for their own use. Although the former occupants were not exactly pleased about that.

As they passed the various ships being refueled, repaired or rebuilt, Sub-Visser Seven wondered if this was his old host. The Navari _had_ been telepathic.

__

Well, he thought_ there is only one way to find out._ Leaning toward the supposed Taxxon and speaking in a low voice so as not to attract unwanted attention, he spoke.

"Ono adashi merhath havra, nara sheenath talwhac."

Which was if memory served, Navari for: I know it's you, stop projecting please. Despite having excellent hearing, there was no response to his request. Perhaps this was not the Navari, and so Sub-Visser Seven decided to try another tactic.

"So, Andalite, how long have you been in this morph?"

That got a twitch, which mildly disappointed the Sub-Visser. This couldn't be his old host, which meant that he hadn't come back after all. Sub-Visser Seven had still held a foolish hope that he might have reconsidered his opinion of Yeerks, since they would have made for quite a team.

Getting back to the Andalite, Sub-Visser Seven saw that he was resolutely trying to conceal his shock at having been found out.

"Ssssewwaari ssstwweeeshh."

He couldn't have known what he was saying. Even Taxxon Controllers could barely speak the Taxxons' native language, and certainly an Andalite couldn't. But there was a third option, that maybe this was not an Andalite at all.

Mountain Taxxons, rebels that refused to submit to the Yeerk Empire, and would occasionally cause trouble for the Yeerks on the planet. They were a nuisance, and any that were captured were immediately given to their fellow Taxxons for interrogation. This could be one of their spies.

"Don't waste that snake-speak on me, Taxxon. _If_ you're one of ours, you should be able to speak _Galard_."

__

Galard was a language used by many species across the galaxy, back in times of peace. It was made up of many languages and thousands of individual dialects. It had mostly gone unused now, except for among the Yeerk Empire where it was used constantly to communicate among the differing races the Yeerks had conquered.

The Taxxon looked utterly bewildered now, unsure of whether he should answer or not. As the mag-lev car moved further and further away from the spaceport, something occurred to the Sub-Visser and he laughed aloud.

"So. You want to resist me, do you? Good, I could certainly use the amusement. It gets awfully tedious being a mere head-of-security on this backwater planet. I suppose you're one of those Mountain Taxxons, those who still refuse to accept our control. It doesn't matter much, I suppose. All of you break eventually."

The mag-lev car turned gently, slowly moving towards one of the many Taxxon hives in this sector. This one was a bit out of the ordinary, though. Instead of being a place where Taxxon Controllers could relax and eat, these Taxxons were not Controllers. They were pure Taxxon, completely without the mild form of restraint the Yeerks imposed.

"Rebels are just fresh meat, but you're a Taxxon, so I'm sure you'll understand. Any Mountain Taxxons we catch are just fed to loyal Taxxons after the mandatory interrogation. Of course, Taxxons don't have any real interest in asking questions, nor the patience for it. They do ask a couple questions, maybe one or two, and then the feast begins."

Sub-Visser Seven chuckled coldly as the Taxxon shuddered slightly, grinning at him.

"Of course, you _could_ tell me why you're really here and what your mission really is, Andalite. You'll still be killed, naturally, but I can make it painless. A much better alternative to being eaten alive, I can assure you."

The Andalite in Taxxon morph gave him nothing more beyond that first initial shudder. Staring at him in a manner Sub-Visser Seven could not read. They both stayed silent for some time, just staring at one another out of the corners of their eyes, each sizing the other up.

Finally, Sub-Visser Seven broke the silence. Speaking in the same low voice he had used at the outset.

"There is another option, Andalite. None of our people has ever taken an Andalite body. Your warriors all use that annoying Andalite tail-blade on themselves rather than being taken alive. It's such a pity, really. There has never been an Andalite Controller in all the universe, and I want to be the first."

The Andalite twitched, then stared hard at him. There was no discernible expression on the Taxxon's "face", but the Andalite's posture spoke volumes. Sub-Visser Seven could almost feel the disgust radiating from the Andalite and filling the half enclosed car.

"Let me take that body, Andalite. You'll live, it's the only possible way you'll live."


	11. Paths Crossed

The morphed Andalite shuddered again, this time in disgust. And the Sub-Visser was certain that if he could have, he would have sliced Sub-Visser Seven's head off with his tail-blade.

My name is Elfangor, Yeerk, he hissed. Remember the name. You'll be hearing it again. But you will _never_ take me alive.

The Sub-Visser sighed, feigning disappointment.

"Pity. Stop the car!"

The car came to a nearly instantaneous halt.

"Open the door," the Sub-Visser said with silky menace.

The doors opened with a whoosh, giving them all an unobstructed view into the pit whose rim they were now peering over.

"You see those? Those are Taxxons, not Taxxon Controllers, Taxxons in their natural state. As vicious and bloodthirsty as any creature in the galaxy."

Giving this object lesson time to sink in, Sub-Visser Seven signaled to his troops, who quickly surrounded the Andalite. Sub-Visser Seven took a moment to observe the Andalite's reaction. He seemed calm enough for now. But that would soon change, Sub-Visser Seven was sure of it.

"Throw him out," Sub-Visser Seven said coldly.

His troops shoved the Andalite to the floor, rolling him toward the exit. The Andalite seemed to be panicking now, desperately kicking his Taxxon legs and trying without success to right himself. It was interesting to watch the Andalite's desperation growing as the Hork-Bajir rolled him across the floor of the car, finally pushing him through the open doors.

The morphed Andalite plummeted like a dropped stone, screaming the whole way.

Demorph! he shouted, and Sub-Visser Seven knew he was talking to himself.

The Andalite hit bottom with shattering force, causing the sides of his Taxxon body to burst open. Sub-Visser Seven sneered, Taxxons were weak but abundant, and for the most part easy allies to the Yeerk Empire. Even as Sub-Visser Seven watched, the Andalite's own body was slowly emerging from the shattered Taxxon form.

Even screaming in agony, the Andalite Elfangor maintained his concentration. This greatly impressed the Sub-Visser, who watched closer as Elfangor's tail-blade appeared at the end of the Taxxon body. Once Elfangor noticed it, the Taxxon feeding frenzy was ended quickly as he lashed out with his newly demorphed appendage.

Striking again and again, Elfangor drove the Taxxons slowly backward. Offering up a challenge even as he did so.

Come on you filthy, disgusting worms! Come and get me! Come on!

Sub-Visser Seven chuckled, this Andalite Elfangor was more reckless than any he had ever encountered. The Taxxons' violently cannibalistic instincts took over then, once they had discovered that they could not harm the Andalite. The wounded Taxxons were as good as dead, and the Sub-Visser disregarded them.

It was time for another test of Elfangor's abilities. How would he deal with this new turn of events?

"Kill him. Shoot the Andalite scum," Sub-Visser Seven ordered, silencing the Hork-Bajir Controllers' laughter.

They had started laughing soon after the Sub-Visser himself, only somewhat out of loyalty. Mostly because they didn't get this kind of entertainment all that often on a backwater, outpost planet like this. Every time any Controller did something that merited being fed to the Taxxons, a crowd of Controllers, those who did not have tasks to complete at the moment, would always gather to watch the execution.

But when Sub-Visser Seven gave the command to fire, they quickly forgot about the entertainment and did as they were ordered. Four streams of lethal red light burned the soil just in front of where Elfangor stood.

__

Do not disappoint me, Elfangor. Sub-Visser Seven ordered silently. Even as his subordinates fired their Dracon beams a second time. Elfangor seemed to be on the verge of panicking, and Sub-Visser Seven became impatient with him.

But the young Andalite did not give in to his growing fear, instead he seemed to be looking for a way to escape the notice of the Hork-Bajir Controllers firing at him. Studying his surroundings, which were not being all that conductive to his hoped-for escape, having nothing that he could climb in his Andalite body, he seemed to be at a bit of a loss. So instead, after some understandable hesitation, he dove under the cover of the Taxxons' vile bodies.

Sub-Visser Seven grinned in passing, then resumed his role as a Yeerk Sub-Visser.

"Go in after him! Cut him to pieces!" Sub-Visser Seven shouted.

It was what they would expect of him, and so he said that. His heart was not in the declaration, but he made sure to say it with enough force that no one would notice. Watching six of his soldiers leap from the car into the Taxxon pit, he wondered what Elfangor would do next.

Elfangor was still hiding in the mass of feeding Taxxons. But they would not provide cover from attacking Hork-Bajir for more than a few seconds, at best. As the Sub-Visser stared at the writhing mass of Taxxons, he wondered what Elfangor could possibly be thinking.

Could the young Andalite really be so unutterably stupid as to think a pile of squirming Taxxons would shield him from six well-trained Hork-Bajir warriors?

"Back, you Taxxon _hogren kalach_!"

Hork-Bajir were seldom chosen for their eloquence, of course, and these soldiers were no better than most. They still tended to mix _Galard_ with their rather primitive native language. But they were efficient soldiers, and that more then made up for their small mental deficiencies.

Suddenly, an avian form burst out from under the writhing Taxxons. The bird had six wings, and was a strange and rather helpless-looking creature. Flapping, the bird, which Sub-Visser Seven knew had to be Elfangor, took off.


	12. Priorities

Shooting over the heads of the Hork-Bajir Controllers, Elfangor inscribed several tight circles inside the almost cylindrical shaft. Inwardly, Sub-Visser Seven cheered for him, but outwardly he acted outraged.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!"

"But sir, one of the Taxxons may be hit!"

Sub-Visser Seven had a reputation for being completely ruthless, and now was another chance for him to prove that he had earned it.

"I really don't care," and that was the truth, he did not care at all about any of the Taxxons. "Shoot it! Kill it! Shoot it now you fools!"

They obeyed, and none of them said anything more about the Taxxons. Elfangor escaped, as the Sub-Visser had suspected he would, using his bird morph.

Keeping up the pretense of being livid when he was bursting with secret pride was something that Sub-Visser Seven had long become accustomed to. As he watched Elfangor's morph vanish out of the mouth of the tunnel, Sub-Visser Seven chuckled softly. It was nice to be proven wrong, but only when you were hoping for something you thought would be impossible.

The Sub-Visser wondered when he and Elfangor would meet again.

***

Elfangor flew as fast as he could out of that awful cavelike tunnel and into the bright sunlight of the Taxxon planet. He never thought that any planet could look as lovely to him as the surface of the Taxxon homeworld after his time in those stifling tunnels. Elfangor was feeling a profound exhaustion after having so narrowly escaped a painful death, but there was also an equal measure of elation at having survived against such great odds.

I made it! Elfangor shouted, laughing to no one. I made it out! I'm alive! I'm still free!

Not caring that there were no other Andalites to share in his triumph, Elfangor took a moment to savor it. Then he pulled his focus back to the task at hand. What should his priorities be now?

Alloran and Arbron. They were still stranded somewhere on the planet. And there was still the Time Matrix, which was the only reason that any of them had come to this desolate planet in the first place. Elfangor allowed himself to relax, knowing that his two companions would most likely be able to take care of themselves.

Out of the corner of his left eye, Elfangor saw something that he could not at first make sense of. Then, as he was able to see it more clearly, his soaring optimism plunged. It was the Jahar, landing in the middle of a Yeerk spaceport! It did not seem remotely possible, and yet it was happening right in front of his eyes.

Once the Jahar had touched down, it found itself the target of numerous Yeerk weapons, Dracon beams mostly. Turning to look back the way he had come, Elfangor spotted a mag-lev car. Somehow, though he couldn't have said how, Elfangor knew that Sub-Visser Seven was aboard that particular car. The Jahar settled uneasily into a docking cradle that was designed for a Bug fighter, just as Sub-Visser Seven's transport ran down a pair of Gedds.

The Sub-Visser himself exited first, followed by four of his six lieutenants. Elfangor suspected that the other two were not merely waiting in the tram for the Sub-Visser to call for them, he seemed volatile enough to kill his own underlings when provoked. Flying high over the heads of the Yeerk security forces, Elfangor tried to plan his next move.

***

Sub-Visser Seven, swaggering toward the Andalite ship with all the arrogance that his position afforded him, was in reality wondering what such a ship was doing on the Taxxon homeworld in the first place. What did the Andalites aboard think they would accomplish by landing on a Yeerk controlled planet? Besides dying, of course.

But, when the ship's hatch opened, it was not an Andalite that stepped out onto the barren dust of the Taxxon planet. It was a type of biped. At first, this was all that Sub-Visser Seven noticed about the creature. However, since all of his underlings were thoroughly bewildered by the appearance of these new aliens, he decided to take another look.


	13. A pact with the devil

It was only then that he noticed that this newcomer was an almost perfect duplicate of his previous host. There were differences, of course. The small patch of fur – or hair as the Navari had called it – was a light brown instead of black, and the eyes were also brown, as opposed to the bright red of both his current and former hosts.

Slowly, grinning, the bipedal alien held up its hands to show that it did not possess a weapon. Chuckling, Sub-Visser Seven stepped forward. This reminded him of old times, since this same scene had been played out almost a full day earlier. There were slight differences, but those did not matter overmuch to the Sub-Visser.

***

Raising his hands, Hedrick Chapman took his first steps out onto the alien planet. The older Andalite – Alloran – had said that the Yeerks didn't make deals, well he'd just see about that. Alloran and his little buddy Elfangor had really gotten on Chapman's nerves with their Andalite stuffiness. The third guy, Arbron, had seemed like the quiet type.

Someone Chapman could tolerate, if not like. Loren, the girl that had been dragged along with him on this stupid little trip by the Skrit Na, was a pain in the ass. Chapman hadn't been the least bit surprised that she had developed some idiotic little crush on the Andalite, and it was painfully obvious that she was trying to hide it.

The entire thing made Chapman sick to his stomach. She could have at least stayed within her own species. But that was in the past, and Chapman's strictest policy was to focus only on the future. _This_ was the future.

Holding up his hands in that universal gesture of surrender, Chapman moved toward what seemed to be the leader of these creatures. His red eyes stared right into Chapman's brown ones. He was tall, probably seven feet, not including the three blades on top of his head.

This alien had blades on all of his major joints, in fact. His wrists, ankles, knees, elbows and shoulders were adorned with pale yellowish green blades, as well as his long strong-looking tail. All in all, he definitely looked like someone Chapman wanted on his side.

"Hey, whoa, ease off the weapons. I'm not here to start a fight, I'm here to trade."

The lead whatever-he-was didn't seem to understand a single word that Chapman had said, and yet the two of them understood one another perfectly. He decided to clarify, pantomiming handing something to these guys and receiving something else in return.

***

Sub-Visser Seven addressed the strange-but-familiar bipedal alien. He had guessed what those gestures had meant before any of his underlings. You didn't rise to the rank of Sub-Visser without _some_ intelligence, after all.

"This creature wants to trade," he chuckled. "What do you have to trade with us, alien?"

There was the grin again, the grin that somehow said nothing and spoke volumes both at once. The strange biped disappeared back into the Andalite ship for a few moments, when he was again visible there was another of his species in front of him.

It could have been another male, but somehow the Sub-Visser doubted that. Whatever its gender, it was clearly a prisoner of the first. Its arms and legs had been securely bound with wire, and it stumbled as the first roughly shoved it forward.

Grinning like a feral beast, the first alien shoved the second to the ground.

"That's what I have to trade," he said, pointing to the prone one with his foot. "A whole planet full of _that_."

Even without understanding the strange creature's words, his intentions were perfectly clear. His grin almost matching that of the alien, Sub-Visser Seven pulled the prone alien to its feet. The other alien struggled of course, but without the full use of its limbs it didn't have a chance.

***

Elfangor watched in horror as Loren was taken by the Yeerks. He wondered with bitterness where Alloran and Arbron were; Alloran was still a War-Prince, despite being disgraced by his actions on the Hork-Bajir world.

__

He should be here; he_ should be handling this._ Elfangor thought, his bitterness on the edge of turning into despair. Elfangor knew that he had to do _something_, but he was at a loss when he tried to figure out what. The fate of his entire species, not to mention that of Loren's, might very well rest on whatever plan his troubled mind could come up with.

But he couldn't think of anything, he could only watch helplessly as Loren was dragged away by Sub-Visser Seven's underlings. He could not change his nearly overwhelming desire to come racing to her rescue, but he knew that would not do anything besides getting him either captured or killed.

Elfangor knew that the Time Matrix should have been his first priority, but he could not just leave Loren to the Yeerks without giving her some kind of reassurance.

Loren! It's Elfangor, he saw her head whip around, trying to pinpoint the source of his voice. No, don't! Don't resist them; tell them whatever they want to know. Just don't tell them about the Time Matrix.

__

I don't think Chapman will, Elfangor thought privately. The human had a few too many things in common with the Skrit Na for Elfangor's taste, but at least that would make his actions somewhat easy to predict. Elfangor hoped that he would be able to rescue Loren, Arbron and the Time Matrix, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything in his current morph.


	14. Among friends

Circling high over the spaceport, Elfangor looked for a secluded spot to demorph. Elfangor, while he was looking for some place to demorph out of view of prying eyes, he was also searching for the Skrit Na ship that had been carrying the Time Matrix. He found both.

Folding his three pairs of wings, Elfangor let himself fall toward the ground. There, under the ship-cradle, was the perfect place for Elfangor to demorph. It was dark and crowded, but at least it would hide him from the Gedd Controllers who were currently checking the ship for hull damage.

Elfangor veered of course, since his previous course would have taken him directly into the Gedds' line-of-sight. Circling to the left and folding his wings further, Elfangor sped toward the rapidly widening opening. Flaring all six wings, he just managed to pull out of his dive before he would have slammed into the cradle itself.

Elfangor had seen the large amount of both organic and inorganic waste, but with some effort he ignored it and began to demorph. Once he had finished, the awful stench of the place hit him. Trying not to take too much notice of it, Elfangor saw something that drove all other thoughts out of his mind.

It was a Taxxon, a particularly big one at that, and it was staring right at him. Elfangor was afraid, he knew all that the Taxxon would have to do was call for help and he would be captured. After that, the best that Elfangor could hope for was to be killed quickly.

But, all the Taxxon did was stand there, staring at Elfangor with its strange compound eyes.

Elfangor? That's you, isn't it?

Arbron?!

Yes, I'm here. It's good to see you again.

Elfangor sighed.

I thought I was the only one left. I lost you and Alloran in that Taxxon feeding frenzy. I'm glad I managed to find you again, Arbron, Elfangor said, smiling with his eyes.

Yeah, glad, Arbron said, seeming preoccupied by something.

Arbron, isn't it time for you to demorph?

Arbron said nothing.

Don't you _want_ to demorph now? It can't be at all pleasant to be in that disgusting Taxxon morph.

Still, Arbron said nothing. Elfangor was beginning to lose his remaining patience with the stubborn _aristh_. Glaring at the Andalite-turned-Taxxon, Elfangor mustered all the authority he could.

Arbron, as senior _aristh_, I hereby order you to demorph.

Arbron laughed bitterly.

Yeah, order me, that's going to work. You and I both know we can't stay hidden under this ship-cradle forever. So here's a better idea, why don't you morph Taxxon and then we can go save the Time Matrix?

The Time Matrix! Elfangor had almost completely forgotten about it, first in his near-panic over Loren, and then his excitement over seeing Arbron again. Without a word, Elfangor began what was quickly becoming his most hated morph.

Once he had finished, Elfangor and Arbron both scuttled out from under the ship-cradle. They were completely ignored by the remaining Taxxon workers, and Elfangor began to think they just might make it to the ship.

Arbron, did you have any plan beyond the two of us getting to the Skrit Na ship? Elfangor asked, hoping that his friend would answer in the affirmative.

Of course I did. We lie. We'll tell whoever's aboard that we're here to fix the onboard computers, and after they've all left we fly that pathetic excuse for a spacecraft off this barren planet.

He sounded exceedingly calm, almost like one of the fighter pilots would be when describing these kinds of things. Like this was something he had been planing for months.

Okay, after you Arbron.

Arbron again said nothing as they passed a couple Gedds, ignoring them as best as any Taxxon could. Their Taxxon senses picked up on the pervasive scent of living flesh and blood, both of the Andalites made a supreme effort to ignore it.

No hesitation, Arbron. We have to act like we do this everyday.

Yeah, right, Arbron said shakily. No hesitation.

Something wasn't right, something in Arbron's voice hinted at that fact. Elfangor had at first been too preoccupied with his own fear and doubt to take any notice of his fellow a_risth's_ state of mind. But now that he was beginning to be able to cope with the Taxxon's vile instinctive urges, he began to notice.

However, now was not the time to talk. A pair of Gedd-Controllers brushed by them, barely looking at the two Taxxons. _So far it's going well._ Elfangor thought, most of the Gedds disregarded the two morphed Andalites, thinking that they were simply a pair of Taxxon techs on their way to another assignment.


	15. The Worst of Circumstances

Nothing for them to concern themselves with. Except that one of the Gedd-Controllers wasn't going to simply let an arrogant pair of Taxxon-Controllers pass by without a challenge.

"What rrrr arrrre you two rrrr-doing?"

Elfangor and Arbron both came to a rather abrupt halt.

I can handle this, Arbron said, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Elfangor wondered how Arbron would manage to tell whatever lie he had come up with using a Taxxon's three-foot tongue. Arbron was wondering pretty much the same thing, but he was committed now, he knew that he had to somehow get them both out of this mess and into the Skrit Na ship.

"Sssrreeeee sssnnuuurr ssstwweeeesshh sssnnnnaaaa."

Neither Arbron nor Elfangor had any idea what the former had just said, but Arbron had a feeling that it wasn't what he'd needed to say. Fortunately for both the Andalites, the Gedd hadn't the slightest idea what Arbron had said either.

"Rrrr, use the rrrpad!"

Arbron looked down at what the Gedd was holding out to him, it looked like a primitive miniature computer. Arbron wondered what significance that particular device held, but from the way that the Gedd was waving it around, it was probably important somehow.

Arbron picked up the pad with his Taxxon claws, wondering what to do with the device. He then noticed the makeup of the computer was similar to diagrams of primitive translation devices that he had studied in Technological History class. _So that's what it is, _Arbron thought. _It's some primitive Yeerk version of our own translator chips._

Now that he knew that, the only remaining problem for Arbron was how to get this translation device to say what he needed it to. Looking at the array of buttons through his shattered, blurry Taxxon vision, Arbron hoped that his hesitation would be attributed to the difficulty of recognizing objects with Taxxon eyes.

Arbron finally figured out how to utilize the translation device that he had been given. Typing what he wanted to say on the keypad, Arbron hit the "transmit" button.

"Computer repair," said the toneless voice of the translator.

The Gedd-Controller nodded curtly, begrudgingly pointing them in the direction of the entrance. Once Elfangor and Arbron had both passed out of range of the Gedd's scent, they were both able to relax, at least somewhat. They were soon safely aboard the Skrit Na starship.

The door sealed securely behind them, shutting out the sounds and scents of the Yeerk spaceport. Now, all that remained was for them to fly the craft out of Yeerk space.

__

Yes, all that we have to do is fly a rather conspicuous captured Skrit Na freighter out of a heavily guarded Yeerk spaceport, which just happens to be deep within enemy territory. That_ shouldn't be a problem._ Elfangor thought sarcastically, careful not to project his thoughts aloud.

Right now, though, all that Elfangor really wanted to do was shed the vile Taxxon form he was currently inhabiting. He was certain that Arbron wanted to do the same, it was probably only the fact that neither Andalite knew how they would escape their present situation that kept Arbron from doing so. Elfangor started his own demorph, addressing Arbron even as he did so.

I am going to demorph now, Arbron. I think it would be best if you did so as well.

Arbron didn't answer.

You can not possibly be enjoying that Taxxon body, Elfangor said matter-of-factly.

Arbron continued to remain silent, working the controls of the Skrit Na ship. Elfangor felt a shudder run through the floor as the ship's engines started powering up. Outside, the Gedds were running for their lives as they heard the thrum of the thrusters behind them, they knew that the blast of heat and radiation would kill them if the were anywhere near it.

Back on the ship, Elfangor was starting to get a little impatient with Arbron's complete lack of response. Once his demorph was finished, Elfangor trotted over to where Arbron was standing, still in his Taxxon morph, at the controls of the ship.

Arbron, you really should demorph now. It has been one hour and forty minutes.

Nothing, not even the slightest hint that Arbron had heard him. Annoyed, Elfangor kicked the base of the control console.

Will you listen to me for once in your life?! You need to demorph _right now_!

All the anger blew out of Elfangor in a rush, as Arbron turned to stare at him with those empty Taxxon eyes.

Please Arbron, you're the only other Andalite that I can talk to here. I don't want you to end up a _nothlit._

Arbron's seemed to bow his 'head' then, setting the autopilot before turning to face his sometimes-friend. Arbron's feelings at the moment were anything but simple, he was confused that Elfangor had actually been worried about his wellbeing. He and Elfangor had never seen eye-to-eye on anything before. _I guess it's true that fellow warriors can become family under the worst circumstances._ Arbron wondered how Elfangor would react to what he was about to tell him.

Arbron, please? Elfangor repeated, sounding somehow even more desperate then he had the last time.

You don't know how much I want to right now, Elfangor blinked hard with both sets of eyes, too shocked to formulate a reply just then. I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner.

Elfangor's stalk-eyes drooped, his head bowing a couple seconds later as the truth hit him full force. He shook it off, knowing that there was no time for anything but their self-imposed mission. But, when he looked into Arbron's Taxxon eyes, he felt a shiver run the length of his spine as he remembered the awful and all-consuming hunger of the morph. To have to spend the rest of your life like that was a horror that Elfangor found nearly incomprehensible. The Skrit banging into his left flank broke him out of his grim musings, and he watched as Arbron's Taxxon claws flew over the console.

Elfangor had to admit that Taxxons were at least useful for something, but to spend the rest of your life as one of those creatures…? Elfangor shook those thoughts out of his mind, concentrating on what would probably happen.


	16. Escape Velocity

Ready to go? Arbron asked.

Yes, I am.

Then brace yourself, because I don't know how much of a kick these old Skrit Na ships have.

Arbron engaged the repulsorlift thrusters, and the ship gradually started to rise off the ground. The speed increased with almost painful sluggishness, and by the time they were high enough to accelerate out of the atmosphere the Yeerks were already launching Bug fighters to intercept them. Feeling a slight prickle of fear, Elfangor and Arbron both turned to regard each other.

At this rate it'll take us ten minutes just to get to escape velocity, Bug fighters will be all over us before we can even _think_ about jumping to Zero-space!

Elfangor shook his head, there had to be another option. There _had_ to be, he did not come all the way to this horrible planet just to be recaptured by the Yeerks just as he was trying to leave it. Arbron's head jerked up rather abruptly as a thought came to him.

I know! We can use the Time Matrix! We can escape through time before the Yeerks catch up to us.

Elfangor blinked, knowing that Arbron was only thinking out of desperation.

Arbron, we can't! The Time Matrix's activation would show up on every orbital sensor, every energy sensor-

I don't care! I can't stay like this. You've felt the hunger, Elfangor. You _know_ what it's like. Would you want to be like that for the rest of your life?

Elfangor knew that getting into an argument now was something to be avoided at all costs, and so he didn't answer.

We have no idea how it works, how fast it would power up, or anything else we would need to know to safely operate that device. Besides, what if it takes ten minutes for _it_ to activate, or more? Other than that, we don't know what else could happen if we use it, Elfangor said, hoping that Arbron could be made to see reason.

What? You're telling me that you're worried about what some Prince will say if we manage to survive the trip?

That's not what I meant. I don't think our superiors will care, since I guess my military career is pretty much a non-issue, Elfangor said morosely, remembering the transport ship full of unhosted Yeerks that War-Prince Alloran had ordered him to destroy.

Then what… Oh, you _can't_ be serious, Arbron said, already beginning to laugh. You expect me to believe that you're afraid of some creature from a children's story. I thought soldiers were supposed to be beyond those kind of irrational fears, Arbron said, not even trying to hide his vast amusement.

Elfangor, torn between relief that Arbron could still find humor despite his rather bleak situation, and annoyance that Arbron would laugh at him, considered giving the other a healthy swat with the flat of his tail blade. But, since that might have injured his friend given how fragile Taxxons really were, Elfangor decided not to.

Just children's stories? That's what a lot of people have said about the Time Matrix itself, and we're standing in the same ship as it. Someone had to build it, and it would make sense that it was made by the Ellimists.

Arbron looked like he was concentrating, and Elfangor wondered if he had heard a word that Elfangor had said. Elfangor felt a bit stupid for believing the stories about the Ellimists, but it had seemed the most logical thing at the time. Arbron's next words pushed those feelings right out of his conscious mind, though.

Yeerk craft closing in to intercept. It's a Bug Fighter!

Can we outrun a Bug Fighter?

Are you kidding?! In an old Skrit Na ship? We'd be caught and killed before we could make it out of the stratosphere. _Or worse,_ Arbron thought to himself.

What if we try to fight our way past it?

That Yeerk fighter has twin Penetrator-class Dracon beams, Arbron said, starting to sound like he was talking to an idiot. All the Skrit Na have is used, low-power Dracon beams that the Yeerks sell off for salvage, there is no way that we can trade shots with them.

Intellectually, Elfangor knew this, he had just been grasping at whatever hope he could. No matter how impossibly foolish or hopeless it sounded. Elfangor forced his thoughts to regain some semblance of order, and then he just managed to think up some sort of strategy.

It was desperate, but it was the only thing that his harried mind could come up with.

Wait, Skrit Na ships are faster in atmosphere than Bug Fighters, right? We might be able to outrun them if we stay at this altitude. Elfangor voiced his thoughts, knowing that they sounded crazy.

You want to try and outrun them in the _atmosphere?_ Arbron sounded incredulous, Elfangor didn't blame him.

I'm open to any suggestion you might have, Arbron, Elfangor said, fear making him irritable.

There is a second Bug fighter on us, two more have just been launched, Arbron said, his voice full of barely controlled panic.

We're going to the grass, Elfangor said, hoping he sounded like one of the tough, confidant fighter pilots he had seen aboard the _Star Sword_. I need a direct view on the situation, real time, and real aspect. Open a window for me, will you?

Without further comment, Arbron's Taxxon claws flew over the control console, hitting more buttons than Elfangor ever could have in that space of time. The window opened quickly, and Elfangor saw the shields glowing under the blistering heat they were generating by flying so fast.

Elfangor took his place at the ship's navigation controls, knowing that Arbron would have his hands full with the shields. As he made the ship dive lower, their speed increased dramatically.

We're now passing three-thousand miles per hour! Arbron said, his composure slipping.

As the ship tore through the air at those incredible speeds, they threw up a wake of dust and rock behind them. Elfangor knew that no ship, not even one designed to fly at high speed in the atmosphere like the Skrit Na craft was, could handle traveling three-thousand miles per hour in this kind of environment for long.


	17. Dogfight

Dropping from seven miles to less than twenty feet at those kinds of speeds could be very unnerving, and Elfangor wasn't so detached that he could ignore such things entirely. But it was also oddly thrilling, he might have often traveled millions of miles per hour in the airless, frictionless environment of deep space, but that could not possibly compare to the heady rush of blazing ever closer to the ground at a mere three-thousand miles per hour

Elfangor and Arbron both screamed in that strange combination of terror and sheer exhilaration that usually accompanies risking either death or dismemberment. The shrieking of collision alarms, accompanied by the rhythmic flashing of bright green lights provided an eerie backdrop to their inaudible screams.

Pull up! Pull up NOW! Arbron yelled, as the ground loomed a bit too close for comfort.

Elfangor stained the controls, wishing suddenly that Loren could be here with him. Surely she would have enjoyed this. Elfangor blinked, wondering what had made him think of her right then.

__

Aside from the fact that I might as well have abandoned her here, for all the good I'm doing her right now. He shook that off, he didn't have any time to spare for thought of things he had no control over. He would just have to hope that Loren could somehow escape Chapman and the Yeerks and that he could find her.

Can you bring the Bug fighters up on visual? Elfangor asked, as much to distract himself as to try and get some information on how their enemies were faring.

Coming on screen now, Arbron said, his tone giving away the fact that he was extremely tense.

The Bug fighters weren't doing as well as the more durable Skrit Na ship, but the Yeerks inside were nothing if not determined. Or maybe they were just afraid of facing the wrath of whoever had dispatched them to chase down the _Jahar_.

Fine, Elfangor grated, seeing that they were too stubborn to back down. Let's just see how long the can last at higher speeds.

He pushed the freighter's engines harder, feeling the ship list ever so slightly as the speed increased.

We're currently at three-thousand miles per hour, climbing to three-thousand three. Three-thousand four, hull temperature is… if Arbron had possessed eyelids he would have blinked, a reading _that_ high did not bode well for them. Forget I said anything, you don't even want to know. We've just reached three-thousand five miles per hour.

Elfangor watched as the ground and sky whipped past, each blurred into the other until it was impossible to tell the two apart. The blistering heat-wave that blazed all around their borrowed ship caused the rather pitiful-looking plants to explode into roaring flames beneath them. Anyone who was looking now would have only to follow the path of charred foliage to find the ship.

Pull up! Arbron's urgent shout cut into Elfangor's worrying.

Where did _they_ come from?! Elfangor demanded as he strained the ship's throttle to the point of almost breaking his wrist, referring to the mountain range that had seemed to appear from nowhere.

Do you think we'll clear them? Arbron asked.

Elfangor didn't waste words, as he felt the ship struggle to regain some of its former altitude. The Yeerks, having advanced and explicit knowledge of the topography of their planet, managed to gain on them quickly during their momentary trouble.

The lead Bug fighter was now close enough to fire, and they did not waste that opportunity. Though they did not hit the ship, they did come close enough to be worrisome. As the dividing line between night and day rushed towards them, Elfangor saw the lead Bug fighter explode into flaming wreckage.

He sighed, relieved that at least one of their pursuers had finally been destroyed. Then the excitement hit him.

Yah hah! One Yeerk fried!

Elfangor, we'll be next if we don't slow down, Arbron warned, not letting himself get too caught up in the fact that this desperate maneuver had actually worked.

There are still three Bug fighters after us, Elfangor said, as if Arbron could have forgotten that fact.

We are about two minutes from burning up ourselves, Arbron said, checking the temperature readings to make sure he was right. Can you be sure that those Bug fighters will cinder before we do?

What would you suggest, Arbron?

We use what we have. We take a chance, three shots should be enough to take out our pursuers. They would never expect something like that, Arbron answered.

Are you sure you can do that?

I can, Arbron said calmly.

With Taxxon eyes? Elfangor asked, wanting to be realistic about any chance they had. With Taxxon reaction time? And with a Skrit Na targeting computer?

I can _make_ the shot, Elfangor.

Arbron, I want to come out of this alive, Elfangor said, giving his companion a sidelong look.

And you think I don't care whether I live or die? You might be right. You only had to be one of these creatures for a shot time, and even then you could barely stand it. I'll have to be this way for the rest of my life. Can you blame me for not wanting that to be such a long time? Arbron's voice had become increasingly raw as he spoke, as more and more suppressed emotion seeped in.

Arbron shook himself. I can still make this shot. I won't fail just because I happen to be stuck like this, he said resolutely.

And all this time you used to mock me for wanting to be a great hero. Now look what _you're_ trying to do.

I'm not trying to be a hero, Elfangor. I just want to survive.

Elfangor had nothing to say to that, and so they both fell silent once again. Elfangor looked at the hull temperature indicators and saw that Arbron was right. They would both die if they didn't slow down soon.


	18. Desperate Defense

Elfangor took a breath, trying almost successfully to quash his urge to ask the captain what to do. He _was_ the captain of this ship, and whatever happened would be at _his_ command. That thought unnerved him for a moment, but he would not let such a stupid thing as an attack of nerves get the better of him.

Okay, Arbron. In ten seconds. Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one…

Elfangor disengaged the ship's engines and hit the air brakes, causing the ship to shudder violently as it dropped speed. As she ship was buffeted violently by the air currents, Elfangor and Arbron both struggled to stay upright. Arbron, with his many Taxxon legs, managed to stay on his feet.

Elfangor wasn't so fortunate, being thrown across the deck. Arbron, not having time for anything but his own task, focused his attention on the Bug fighters that were suddenly far out in front of them. Their sudden deceleration had caught the pilots of the Bug fighters by surprise, and now Arbron was in the perfect position to shoot them down.

Elfangor, struggling to get back on his feet after being thrown across the deck, saw something that he knew would have made Arbron a hero back on the homeworld. Arbron's first shot turned the lead Bug fighter into a flaming ball of airborne wreckage. His second shot blew the left Bug fighter to pieces, and his third destroyed the last one.

Elfangor was amazed that Arbron had even been able to do that in a Taxxon's body, even more so that it had been done in a planetary atmosphere while in a beat-up old wreak of a Skrit Na ship. Elfangor smiled; at least some use had been made of that awful Taxxon body that Arbron had been trapped in.

Nice shooting, Arbron. _Very_ nice shooting.

Thanks. I guess Taxxon reflexes and senses are adapted better for this kind of use than ours are. It's kind of a relief to know that there's something actually _useful_ about these disgusting bodies.

Arbron, we _will_ find a way to get you out of that Taxxon morph, Elfangor said, trying to sound confidant and convincing.

__

Sure you will, Arbron thought bitterly, fighting the urge to project his thoughts for Elfangor to hear. Elfangor, for his part, was just starting to come down from the high that he had been on after seeing the Bug fighters destroyed. He was only just starting to consider what it must have been like for Arbron, knowing that he would spend the rest of his life in a Taxxon's body, knowing that he was doomed to a fate that most warriors would consider worse than death. Now that the rush of battle was wearing off, Arbron's instinctive Taxxon hunger was coming back in a rush, as was his despair at spending the rest of his life in the body of an oversized, cannibalistic worm.

Right then, he noticed that the ship was slowing down even further. And that his view through the main screen was shifting, twisting around. As if the ship were turning. Looking towards Elfangor to ask him if he was seeing the same thin, Arbron saw that Elfangor was the one causing the ship to turn.

What are you doing? Arbron demanded, wanting to know why Elfangor would go back just as they had escaped.

I need a place to land and conceal the ship. I need daylight to do that. And we both need to be closer to the spaceport.

Why do we need to be closer to the spaceport?

We can not just leave the others to be captured by the Yeerks, Elfangor said, still focusing on his piloting so he wouldn't crash into something in the darkness.

The others? Do you mean War-Prince Alloran?

Yes. And the humans. They are our responsibility, Arbron. You know as well as I do that they cannot be infested, with what they now know.

We are _not_ going back to the spaceport. Elfangor, are you out of your _mind_?! If we go back, you know what they'll do?! They'll eat me alive, Elfangor!

Elfangor did not have to think very long before he realized who "they" were: the Yeerk-infested Taxxons, and even the non-infested ones would not hesitate to attack another Taxxon if it meant that they would have fresh meat.

Arbron, you have to hold on. For their sake as well as your own, you have to try and hold on.

This statement did not have the calming effect that Elfangor had hoped it would. In fact, it had exactly the opposite of its intended effect.

Hold on? Hold on?! Are you out of your _mind?!_ If we go back to that spaceport, the Taxxons there will eat me! Turn this ship back around! I'm going to use the Time Matrix no matter what you say. I'm going to go back to my life!

Arbron, you can _not_ use the Time Matrix. You know what would happen if you --

I don't _care_! Get out of my way, Elfangor. I'm going to use the Time Matrix whether you approve or not! I'm going to _make_ this cursed hunger stop!

Elfangor turned to look at Arbron with his main eyes, trying to see the young, desperate _aristh _that Arbron really was. But for the life of him, Elfangor couldn't. All he could see was the Taxxon, something from his worst nightmares. The round, red, jellylike compound eyes, the round red mouth, filled with sharp serrated teeth, and the disgusting bloated body.

Elfangor still hated to believe that one of his fellow Andalites, someone he had started to develop a sort of friendship with, would spend the rest of his life as a vile, cannibalistic worm.

Arbron stared at Elfangor, and for a while both of them were silent. Elfangor wondered what Arbron could be thinking, but didn't have the heart to ask. Arbron, meanwhile, was getting more and more desperate as he stared at Elfangor. The other Andalite was determined that neither he nor Arbron himself would use the Time Matrix.

So Arbron knew that he would have to resort to more drastic measures if he wanted to gain his freedom from his Taxxon body. Elfangor had no way of knowing what Arbron was thinking, but he _was_ starting to worry about his friend. Out of nowhere, Arbron raised himself up to his full height.

"Sssrrrreeeeyyyyyaaahhh!" Arbron shrieked, slamming the upper third of his body down on Elfangor.

Elfangor jumped right, out of the attacking Taxxon's path, resisting his instinctive urge to counter-attack with his tail. He knew that Arbron wanted him to, but he just couldn't bring himself to murder his friend. The force of Arbron's charge caused him to slam almost headfirst into the main control console. A cascade of sparks erupted from Arbron's impact point, and Elfangor held up a hand to shield his main eyes while turning his stalk eyes away.


	19. Lost and Alone

Arbron turned quickly, scuttling on his many Taxxon legs and bringing his tubelike red mouth to bear on Elfangor again. At the same time, Arbron dove forward, hoping to stun Elfangor by slamming the Andalite against one of the nearby bulkheads. Elfangor leapt aside again, but this time he decided to take more drastic action. He would not kill Arbron, of course, but Elfangor had no intention of becoming a Taxxon's meal.

Elfangor sliced two of Arbron's foremost legs off with his tail blade, but Arbron still stubbornly charged forward. Taking careful aim, Elfangor cut off another pair of Arbron's legs with his fast moving, bladed tail. Arbron fell to the deck and lay there, helpless.

Just kill me! Arbron raged impotently.

Elfangor was too absorbed with trying to fly the ship, or at least stop it from crashing, to tell Arbron to shut up. And even if he did, Elfangor doubted that Arbron would listen to him anyway. The control console had been half destroyed when Arbron had rammed it, and the ship's flight had become extremely erratic. Elfangor reduced power, trying to get their speed under control.

You can't just leave me like this! Arbron screamed desperately.

I _am_ going to get you help, Arbron. But first I need to land this ship!

Elfangor, you know what happens to wounded Taxxons. You _know_ what they do! Arbron sounded like he was panicking slowly.

I will protect you! Elfangor returned, trying desperately to reassure the other _aristh_.

The shaking was getting worse, and the lone Skrit that had long since abandoned its post in the cockpit. Maybe, even with all their mental deficiencies, Skrit still possessed the same instinct for self-preservation that any sentient creature had. At the very least, it knew not to stay in a confined space with a hungry Taxxon.

You can't protect me, you fool! You can't stop the hunger! Don't you understand? I ate that wounded Taxxon, I couldn't help myself! Even Alloran couldn't stop himself from indulging in that vile Taxxon hunger!

Shut up! Just shut up and let me think!

Elfangor looked around the cockpit for something that would keep Arbron quiet, at least long enough for him to stop the ship from crashing. Sweeping the room with his stalk eyes, Elfangor saw a bright green panel marked with writing in the Skrit Na language. That was probably where they stored their weapons when not in use.

Tapping the panel with his left hand, Elfangor took out an old-looking Yeerk issue Dracon beam. It was covered in a fine layer of dust, and Elfangor suspected it hadn't been maintained very well. But, that was the case with most Skrit Na things, and Elfangor knew he couldn't expect them to take better care of their weapons than they did anything else.

Setting the weapon to its lowest intensity, Elfangor turned and aimed it straight at Arbron.

What are you doing? Arbron demanded.

I have to land this ship, Arbron. So keep quiet or I'll stun you, Elfangor said, intending only to convince Arbron to be silent.

He did not want to use the Dracon beam on Arbron, and hoped that he would take the hint and remain silent.

If you fire that thing, you'll kill me! You have the settings backwards. That was originally a Yeerk weapon. Setting one is the highest, not the lowest!

Elfangor looked at the Dracon beam in his hand for a minute, before realizing that while Arbron couldn't stand upright anymore, he could still scuttle forward at a good enough speed to make him dangerous. Arbron came rushing and slithering forward, snapping his serrated teeth and slavering. Elfangor recoiled; knowing that Arbron wanted him to shoot. Shoot him, with the Dracon beam on its highest setting.

Elfangor quickly twisted the dial on the Dracon beam to six and fired. He realized then, just as the Dracon beam blasted a gaping hole in the floor of the ship, that Arbron had tricked him. Arbron had always been more familiar with the workings of alien computers and devices than Elfangor himself ever had.

By some quick twist of his hand, the Dracon beam missed Arbron by scant millimeters. Instead, the hot crimson energies burned a two-foot hole in the hull. The ship, already badly destabilized from having most of its controls destroyed, began to pitch and roll even worse now that this latest damage had been done.

Bucking like a dying animal, the Skrit Na freighter crashed headlong into the mountain range. The hull crumpled and ripped open like thin cloth, throwing the passengers out onto the surface of the planet. Luckily, since they had lost a good deal of their height as well as their speed, the impact was not quite fatal. Though it did come quite close to killing Arbron, with his weaker Taxxon physiology.

After three hours, Elfangor slowly pulled himself back to consciousness. He was lying on his side in the dirt, staring up at the unfamiliar stars and three tiny moons of the Taxxon world. At first, he didn't have the slightest idea where he had ended up. All he knew was that he was in a great amount of pain.

But, as Elfangor slowly forced himself to stand, he caught sight of the twisted wreck of the Skrit Na freighter. He remembered then what had happened, how Arbron had been trapped in a Taxxon morph, that Loren was still stranded somewhere on this desolate planet, how Arbron had tried to force Elfangor to kill him

That last thought spurred Elfangor into action, and he swept his stalk eyes around, trying to find where Arbron might have landed. Then, he realized that one of his stalk eyes was blind. Since he didn't have the time to tend to his wounded eye, or to morph so that his own restored DNA would eliminate the wound entirely, Elfangor forced himself to ignore the wound and focus on finding Arbron.

Arbron! Elfangor called, hoping the other was close enough to hear him. But more than that, Elfangor hoped he would answer. Arbron, where are you?!

Nothing. Elfangor kept walking, hoping to somehow find the other _aristh_ among the remains of the Skrit Na ship. Elfangor saw the inside of the ship through the two-foot hole that the Dracon beam had blown in the hull, and he also saw how the ship's engines had been torn almost completely off. He knew that the ship would never be able to fly again.

Right then, Elfangor noticed that his right stalk eye was starting to clear up. Touching it, he found that it had merely been covered with mud. Elfangor ducked into the hole, careful not to scrape his stalk eyes on the edges of the hole.

When he got inside, Elfangor tried calling out to Arbron again. He still received no answer. Elfangor walked around the remains of the bridge, painted in shades of green by the Skrit Na's peculiar emergency lighting.


	20. Search

Elfangor got the feeling that there was something missing, as he explored the wrecked craft further. It took his confused mind a while to track on what exactly that was, but then he realized that the two Skrit cocoons that had been secured to the right-hand wall were gone.

Elfangor noticed that the door leading in to the cargo hold had been ripped off its moorings. Elfangor stepped through the hole and into the main area of the cargo hold. Looking around at the haphazard piles and stacks of open, closed, or broken crates on the floor, Elfangor saw that most of them had been filled with objects from other planets.

That wasn't unexpected, since Elfangor knew that the Skrit Na collected all kinds of objects from the planets they came across. Coming closer, Elfangor was able to make out the contents of one of the shattered crates. It was a jumbled collection of things that seemed to have only the loosest connection to one another.

There were animals that had been frozen, to better preserve them for their journey to the Skrit Na world, Elfangor supposed. There were also bundles of the artificial skin that Chapman had called clothing, hollow-seeming glass objects that had been filled with liquids of varying colors, a collection of archaic electronics, and things that looked like hundreds of sheets of paper all glued together on one side. There was also a long crate of some other kind of objects, Elfangor could almost swear that he was looking at a collection of ancient projectile weapons.

Ancient by Andalite standards, anyway.

What Elfangor saw next, though, pushed thoughts of the primitive weapons right out of his mind. There, right in front of him, was the most powerful object in the history of the universe. The Time Matrix, sitting in the cargo hold of an old, battered wreck of a Skrit Na freighter. Right next to it was something that had been painted bright yellow and had four black wheels.

Elfangor didn't know what it was, so he stepped closer, wanting to know what this new machine was. There were silver letters in some alien alphabet, as well as a silver design in the shape of a quadruped. The letters spelled out the word "Mustang", and so Elfangor supposed that that was what this machine was called.


	21. Human Things

Elfangor like the look of this Mustang, but he knew that the Time Matrix should be his most immediate concern. Elfangor turned to look at it with his main eyes, taking a last look at the Mustang with his stalk eyes. The Time Matrix was a simple-looking machine, but Elfangor knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving.

Elfangor had seen the readings on the Skrit Na computer that Arbron had accessed, and so he knew that within this plain, off-white sphere had more power than the Andalite and Yeerk space fleets combined. Unseen, unsuspected, it spread its power-grid through the fabric of spacetime. For a few moments Elfangor stopped breathing, in awe of the device he now beheld.

He knew that to move a spacecraft in or out of Zero-space took energy that was comparable to that of a mid-sized star, or more, but to move through _time_ would take ten times that. The power of ten suns, all somehow contained within this unassuming, off-white globe.

It was a startling thing to consider.

Arbron! Elfangor called, knowing the other wouldn't be there but wanting to hear the silent sound of his own voice.

As he expected, there was no answer. Elfangor knew that Arbron had to have been thrown clear of the Skrit Na ship when it crashed, just as he himself had been. But Elfangor hadn't found him anywhere when he had walked around the perimeter of the downed ship. Elfangor also noticed that something else was missing from the ship, but since he'd had a lot of things on his mind, Elfangor didn't really think enough about it to figure out what it was.

Elfangor looked around with his stalk eyes, wanting to solve the mystery of the missing crewmember before he left. Once he let his feelings of panic about finding Arbron recede a bit, Elfangor's agile mind began to realize just what, or rather who, was missing from the ship. _The Skrit! That's what is missing._

It was true, the lone Skrit who had been mindlessly polishing and cleaning anything within reach, was nowhere to be found. _Both of the Skrit cocoons are gone, along with Arbron and the active Skrit. Where could they have gone?_ Elfangor started to walk away from the Time Matrix, but he turned his stalk eyes to look back at it, the machine seemed to have some kind of hold on him.

Once Elfangor did make it back outside, the first thing he did was to call out to Arbron again. It was becoming a habit, but it wasn't harmful or distracting, and so Elfangor saw no reason to stop. The nightside of the planet was almost pitch black, since the stars were too dim to see by, and Elfangor couldn't see the moons.

Elfangor remembered that the ship had been heading for a collision with a range of tall, clifflike mountains when he had been knocked unconscious, so it was probably safe to conclude that they had crashed in a gorge. Elfangor did get the impression of high, sheer walls on both sides. But Elfangor was getting tired now, and he did not want to spend the night exposed to whatever nocturnal creatures would be wandering around outside. And he most certainly did not want to chance being found by Taxxons while he was sleeping.

Elfangor took one last look at the walls of the gorge, wondering again just where Arbron had gotten to. Elfangor wondered if he could have fallen out of the ship before it had crashed, since the hole had been relatively large. Arbron could have ended up slamming into one of the mountains. Elfangor shuddered; he hated to even imagine that.

Taking a last look at the darkened sky, Elfangor turned and walked back to the ship. Ducking back inside the hole, Elfangor made his way back to the cargo hold. Looking at the mess of crates scattered all over the floor, Elfangor caught sight of one of the bound paper sheaves that were mixed in with the debris.

Elfangor picked it up, wondering what its purpose was. On what Elfangor supposed was the front, Elfangor saw an unfamiliar setting. Once he started flipping through though, Elfangor saw a picture of two humans sitting together. But they weren't what most interested him at first. It was their surroundings that held his attention.

They were in a meadow, a very lovely meadow at that, with a tall waterfall that crashed in white foam into a large lake. The grass in the meadow looked sweet, and the water looked cool and fresh. His attention turned to the two humans, they were obviously happy to be in such a beautiful place. They were smiling the way Loren had when she was happy.

They were also sticking tiny white cylinders into their mouths, and Elfangor assumed that that was something humans did when they were outside. Elfangor also saw some writing beneath the picture. Since he didn't know any human languages Elfangor couldn't read a word of it, but he thought that it must have been a poem written about the beauty expressed in the picture.

Even though Elfangor was very close to falling asleep where he stood, he continued to flip through the pages of the magazine he'd found. He saw various pictures of humans doing nothing but smiling, and various pictures of what seemed to be weapons and transports. Finally, Elfangor came to a photo of a rocket.

Elfangor almost laughed, it was an actual _chemical_ rocket. Were humans really so primitive that they were still using chemical technology to get into space? Or was this picture taken in a museum? Either way, it was still kind of funny to see.

But, the pictures that most drew Elfangor's attention were the ones that showed things he was familiar with. The pictures of lovely beaches beside crystal blue oceans, the wide-open meadows with sweet-looking green grass, and the forest that were as beautiful as any of those on his world.

The cities, those were the things that puzzled Elfangor most. They were ugly, boxy collections of rectangles of varying height. What, he wondered, would prompt humans to build such places when they clearly had so many forests and meadows that they could live in instead? And, was that the reason that the human named Chapman was so much more brutal than Loren?

Elfangor decided that that was probably the reason. But now that he had finished looking through the magazine, the tiredness he had been holding back came at him with a vengeance. Elfangor nearly fell asleep right then and there. Somehow managing to lay himself on the floor instead of falling, Elfangor drifted off while still staring at the magazine in his hands.


	22. Finding a Friend

Elfangor woke up suddenly, but the nightmare that had chased him from sleep refused to follow. He was glad for that small favor, since he didn't have time to waste thinking about dreams. He could see light shining in through the torn off cargo bay doors. Elfangor followed it to the exterior of the craft.

As he had guessed, the sun was now shining on this part of the planet. And, Elfangor also found that he had guessed correctly about another aspect of his unintended journey. The ship _had_ crashed in a deep valley, Elfangor could now clearly see the high, clifflike sides.

Exploring further, Elfangor saw the one thing that he would have been happy to remain in ignorance of. There were small, sharp tracks all over the reddish dust where he had lain. At first Elfangor tried to convince himself that they were made last night, while he had been safe inside the Skrit Na craft. But the tracks were older than his, as evidenced by the fact that his own set of wandering tracks were made over those of the Taxxons.

The Skrit had also been taken; Elfangor could see its distinctive, wandering tracks behind and over those of the Taxxons. Elfangor saw that there had been five Taxxons, and wondered again why he was still standing there by the Skrit Na ship. Wondered why he was even alive at all.

Judging by the drag marks, it was obvious that the two Skrit cocoons had been taken by the Taxxons. Elfangor didn't much care about the Skrit, but he knew that he had to find Arbron. Looking back at the ship, Elfangor wondered again why Taxxon-Controllers would have ignored a live Andalite. And, why they would have ignored the Time Matrix as well.

Then Elfangor remembered Sub-Visser Seven's reference to Mountain Taxxons, Taxxons who refused to accept the Yeerks' domination of their planet. Rebel Taxxons. There might still be hope then; at least rebel Taxxons wouldn't be interested in him or the Time Matrix.

Okay. So Taxxons came. They took Arbron, and the Skrit. And probably the two cocooned Skrit.

Elfangor stared at the spot where he had lain unconscious for he didn't know how long, the Taxxons had to have seen him, and failing that they would have most certainly smelled him. So why was he still alive? It hit him then, with the force of a falling meteorite, Arbron. Arbron was wounded, wounded and a captive of the Taxxons! It was as good as a death sentence!

Elfangor stumbled backwards, his legs giving out underneath him. He had let the Taxxons take Arbron! Taxxons were Taxxons, whether they were Controllers or not, and Arbron had been wounded. Their hunger would assure that Arbron would never recover.

No, Elfangor said weakly, shaking with the realization of how deeply he had failed his friend. What am I supposed to do now?

One thing Elfangor was sure of; nothing would happen if Elfangor did not get back to his feet and do something. The question now was, what _should_ he do? Should he try and follow the Taxxon tracks, hoping to find Arbron? No, Elfangor knew he had to think logically. Arbron and the three Skrit would most likely be dead by now, doomed by the voracious appetites that all Taxxons possessed.

Alloran was the War-Prince, so it would be most logical to seek him out, if only to ask for new orders or fill him in on the situation. But therein lay a problem: the Taxxon world's spaceport was hundreds of miles away, and by now was more than likely swarming with security. And the Taxxon world was mostly desert, hot desert at that.

It was at that moment that one of the pictures Elfangor had seen in the magazine popped back into his head. It was one of two humans sitting in a red machine that bore a striking resemblance to the yellow machine in the cargo hold. The humans were sitting inside the machine together.

Elfangor went back inside the ship, back to the cargo hold where he had found the Time Matrix. He looked at the yellow machine, the "Mustang", and wondered what the name meant. He supposed that it didn't really matter, but it might have been interesting to consider if he wasn't so pressed for time.

Elfangor set about enlarging the hole in the cargo hold, using the Skrit Na's Dracon beams to burn through the hull. Next, the removed the seats and the canvas top, then, with a bit of searching, Elfangor found what he thought to be the main control computer. It was small, with a pair of black knobs on either side.

Elfangor tried twisting one of the knobs, but all it was currently doing was giving off static sounds. Elfangor took a closer look at the computer, then he noticed the tape drive. This was a type of technology that he'd only seen in museums.

He pushed the tape into the computer, and all at once the most annoying screaming sounds began to come out of the computer.

"Can't get no… satisfaction!"

Elfangor quickly shut off the tape drive, wondering about the mentality of a race that would use a computer to play screaming sounds. Looking over the array of buttons and knobs in front of him, touching the notched brass shape that was lying on a flat surface above the control array.

Elfangor saw a small slot in a chrome ring on the right side of the wheel; it was about the same size as the narrow part of the brass insert. Elfangor decided to try putting the insert in the slot, it fit, and Elfangor wondered what he should do next.

After a few minutes of contemplation, Elfangor turned the brass insert in the slot. This action elicited a rather unexpected response. There came a loud, horse roar from somewhere within the body of the vehicle. Elfangor was surprised, to say the least. The humans were _still_ using chemical engines?

It was thousands of years behind the systems that Andalites and any other truly civilized race in the galaxy were using. But, as Elfangor pressed down on the accelerator with his forehoof, the engine roared louder. Elfangor found that while it _was_ primitive, he strangely enjoyed it.

Once he was moving, Elfangor really started to enjoy his new ride. He had nothing to compare to how driving this Mustang felt, except for maybe running, and even he couldn't go this fast for as long as he intended to in this machine. He knew he needed to find Alloran, or at least avoid the Yeerks' security patrols, but somehow all of that seemed not to matter as much as going as fast as this machine could.

Elfangor knew that Arbron was probably dead, and he did miss the company of the other Andalite. He had the human music, that was what it had seemed to be to him at least, turned down to a level that he could handle. He had also taken the time to collect an assortment of glass bottles than contained fluids of some sort.

He had broken two of the bottles before he had figured out how to open them. Elfangor was now sipping Dr. Pepper out of a shallow pan that he had set up for himself. It was an odd black-brown color, and it bubbled all the way up his leg.

It was not an uncomfortable sensation, in fact it was rather pleasant, and he could imagine Loren sitting beside him as he guided the Mustang through the desert. Wind in his face, Dr. Pepper bubbling its way up his leg. It was a pleasant thought.


	23. The Living Hive

Elfangor knew that he could not just drive up to the Taxxon world's spaceport in a bright yellow Mustang, since he would be shot before he even came in sight of the ship-cradles. He would need some way of getting in undetected, but he would _not_ morph into a Taxxon again. Not ever.

That was when the ground around him caved in suddenly. There was a loud, strident booming that echoed around him, drowning out the Mustang's engine.

Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Elfangor was bounced around in the most uncomfortable way, as the Mustang rolled down a steep dirt ramp. At the end of the ramp was darkness too deep for Elfangor's light-adapted eyes to see into. Elfangor took his hoof off of the accelerator, and tried to pull the notched brass insert out of the ignition slot, but the vehicle was shaking too much for him to even touch it.

The Mustang bucked and rattled, reminding Elfangor a little too much of the Skrit Na ship. At last, when Elfangor was starting to wonder if he would ever stop, the Mustang skidded to a halt. It was silent and dark, or at least it would have been, if not for the Mustang's engine and the still playing music.

Elfangor shut the music off, doing the same with the engine a few seconds later. Elfangor sat in the darkness, but the darkness was not so deep that he couldn't see, and even as he sat there his eyes were adjusting. The cavern was vast, and in the center stood a low hill, a mound that seemed to glow with a soft red radiance.

Out from this glowing mound extended a number of tendrils, each three or four feet around. As Elfangor's eyes adjusted further, he saw that there were about twelve of the tendrils, and that all of them extended from the mound, out through the walls of the cavern. The tendrils, Elfangor now noticed, glowed the same deep red of the mound. There were openings in them, as well. Holes that could most likely be used to get in or out, holes that were as large… As a Taxxon?!

Elfangor could see them now, now that he was no longer so focused on the mound itself. There were hundreds of them, milling about as if they didn't even notice him. Elfangor was extremely grateful for small favors. Even as he watched, the holes in the sides of the tendrils opened and more Taxxons slithered out.

They had to see him, smell him, even taste him, but the walked on as if they didn't care. Elfangor wasn't about to impugn his good luck, but he couldn't help but wonder why the ignored him. They seemed to be most concerned by the hole that his Mustang had made, or rather had had made for it.

The Taxxons were pushing the soil and assorted rocks back up to fill the gap.

IS THIS THE CREATURE?

Elfangor screamed, holding his head in agony as the echoes of that nearly overpowering voice faded. Elfangor realized then, as the last remnants of pain faded, that the mound itself was alive.

Yes, that's him. He is called Elfangor.

Elfangor recognized Arbron's voice, but the wariness he felt wouldn't let him trust without conformation. Even when he saw that two sets of legs on the Taxxon that was approaching him were shorter than all the others. He did not trust Taxxons.

Arbron?

Yes, Elfangor. It's me.

I thought you were dead.

No. I wanted to be. But I am alive. Alive to serve the Living Hive.

The what? What are you talking about?

The Living Hive, Arbron repeated, waving one of his many Taxxon claws at the glowing mound behind him. Light of the Taxxons, Mother and Father of the Taxxon species. The Hive has lost many of its children to the Yeerks, and many more have betrayed the Hive to ally themselves with the invaders. But the Hive is still Mother and Father of the species.

Arbron, what are you going on about? Elfangor asked, worried. This didn't sound at all like the carefree _aristh_ that Elfangor had gotten to know. Did they do something to you?

Arbron laughed, sounding like himself again. Do something to me? Well, they didn't eat me. Though I honestly expected them to. I think they even wanted to, so I had to give them the Skrit. To stop them from eating us both. Then, somehow the Living Hive learned what I was, and it drew me here.

How? You could not possibly have walked. We're at least a thousand miles from where we crashed.

The Hive's tunnels extend across thousands of miles, if not more. There is powerful suction in the tunnels. A Taxxon has only to fold back its legs and the pressure will draw it swiftly down the tunnel, as the Hive commands.

Elfangor looked closer at Arbron, wondering why he had suddenly seemed so accepting of his fate, and saw something else.

Your legs. The legs I… the legs you were missing. They're growing back.

Yes, Taxxons have the ability to regenerate legs. If they are allowed to.

Elfangor considered the events that had brought him here.

Arbron, it was not by accident that I ended up here, was it? That tunnel opened beneath me for a reason. Does the… does the Living Hive want something with me?

Yes, Elfangor. The Hive is angry.

At me? Elfangor asked, feeling his insides quiver at the thought of such a powerful creature being angry with him. Elfangor knew that all the Hive would have to do if it wanted to kill him was scream. Such an overwhelming psychic resonance would destroy even one who was used to dealing with things of that sort.


	24. Taxxon Rebellion

The Living Hive is tired of losing its children to the Yeerks, Arbron continued, reassuring Elfangor that the Hive was not _his_ enemy. The Living Hive has long sought a way to destroy the invaders and remove them from this planet. But the Hive could not understand the Yeerks and all their machines. But now… now the Hive has an advisor. Someone who understands Dracon beams and spacecraft, mag-lev trains, and someone who is willing to help the Hive destroy the Yeerks and the traitor Taxxons.

You? Elfangor asked, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to that question.

Arbron laughed mirthlessly.

What other future is there for me? I am a Taxxon now, Elfangor. And now I am planning a surprise attack on a Yeerk spaceport. The Hive will send a thousand of her children with me. I will lead a Taxxon rebellion.

Elfangor stared at his friend, out of words. What was there to say? His hearts felt like some great hand was squeezing them; he couldn't bear to think of how Arbron felt, knowing that he would never be an Andalite again. Arbron shuffled up to him, swaying a bit on his still-shortened legs.

Don't pity me, Elfangor. I'm actually glad I didn't die. Any life is better then none. And no matter how hopeless things seem, there's always meaning and purpose to be found.

And you've found your purpose? Elfangor asked, beginning to smile.

We attack tonight. The Hive is pushing her tunnels closer to the spaceport as we speak. When the time comes, a thousand Taxxons will pour from the ground, surprising the Yeerks and their hosts.

Elfangor tried to imagine that moment, when a thousand huge, hungry Taxxons would erupt from the ground. Taxxons against Hork-Bajir-Controllers and Taxxon-Controllers and Gedd-Controllers. It was not an encouraging thought.

You will lose, Elfangor said, certain that what he said was true.

We know. We know that most of us probably won't survive the attack, but even a Taxxon has the right to resist an invader. Even a Taxxon has the right to control their own planet.

Elfangor was surprised to hear Arbron speaking like that on behalf of the Taxxons. These Taxxons were no less cannibalistic than those at the spaceport, no less savage than those that served the Yeerks. But, if this attack were to succeed, might it not set the Yeerks back? At least somewhat? And could Elfangor refuse to offer what help he could?

Arbron, tell me what I can do to help.

That's the spirit, Elfangor, Arbron said happily. We'll put some tail into these Yeerks yet. We'll be heroes after all. Right?

Elfangor nodded. Right.

Arbron gave Elfangor's shoulder a quick touch, then walked off to begin making plans for the attack.

Time passed slowly for Elfangor, in the stifling darkness of the Taxxon tunnels. He stayed there for the rest of the day. Elfangor hated the stench, but since he didn't know another way to get out of the caverns, he stayed. Elfangor also stayed for Arbron, even though his old friend spent more time communing with the Living Hive than he did talking with Elfangor.

Elfangor knew that they were making plans for the attack tonight. He just wondered if Arbron had told the Hive how hopeless the attack would be. The Yeerks had the advantage of both numbers and weapons, and Taxxons were well known for being incredibly easy to kill.

But it was interesting to see Arbron settling into his new role, the Hive had made him a general. Elfangor could see that the Hive needed him, someone who knew how to deal with the Yeerks' weapons, their ships, and how to coordinate the Taxxons' own lesser forces. He knew how to best damage the Yeerks. Elfangor saw that Arbron enjoyed his new role, in fact he seemed more alive than he had been, even when he was still fully Andalite.

At last, Arbron came back to talk with Elfangor.

Elfangor, there is a problem we have to address before we attack. Alloran and the humans will most likely be at the spaceport when we arrive. You know how Taxxons are; even Taxxon-Controllers will not be able to resist the hunger that much better than we do. No one will be safe, not from our side and not from theirs.

Elfangor nodded, he knew that was true.

What do you want me to do? Elfangor asked.

If you can, find Alloran and the humans. I know it was what you were going to do anyway. But, most importantly, get the Time Matrix safely away from this planet. The Living Hive is no more safe from that machine than any other living creature.

I will take care of the Time Matrix, Elfangor assured him.

You'll need the _Jahar_, too. I'll help get you to it, Arbron continued.

And then you can come back with me, Elfangor finished.

No. Elfangor I'm not going to go back with you. This is where I belong now. I know we'll lose this battle, but there may be other chances to hurt the Yeerks.

Elfangor nodded, knowing somehow that he would never convince Arbron to come back with him. I - I'll tell your parents what happened -

No! Arbron interrupted, before Elfangor could even finish his sentence. Don't tell them, I don't want them to remember me this way. Tell them I died in battle. Let them remember me the way I used to be.

Arbron… Elfangor trailed off, finding that he had nothing to say.

I have some last minute planning still left to do. We've already put that yellow machine of yours in one of the tunnels, so you'll be able to follow. You'll be going last, once all of our people have been sent. Drive straight down the tunnel. The tunnel is itself part of the Living Hive. It will be able to get you to your destination. One more thing.

Yes?

The spaceport will be in chaos. You won't be able to tell my soldiers apart from the Taxxon-Controllers. So don't hesitate, do what you have to do to survive.

Arbron walked away after delivering that warning. Elfangor saw that the legs that he'd severed were a little more than halfway regenerated, but Elfangor was still able to tell Arbron apart from all the other Taxxons milling around.

Elfangor began to see that the Taxxons were preparing for something, judging by the way they were all starting to move in the same direction. It was like watching an army move into position. In fact, Elfangor soon realized that that was exactly what was happening now: The Taxxon rebel army was preparing to launch.

It was a strange sight to see, that was for sure. The Taxxons would line up in front of the tunnels, the Living Hive would glow a brighter shade of red, and the Taxxons would shove their way into the tunnels, where they were blown at high speed to their destination.

At last, when all the Taxxons had departed, it was Elfangor's turn. He started the Mustang's engine and let it run for a moment. He was _not_ looking forward to this, but he had promised Arbron to fight, so he would have to take this next step. But Elfangor, like any Andalite, hated enclosed spaces.

Maneuvering the Mustang over to the opening of the tunnel, Elfangor watched in surprise as the tunnel widened and flattened out to accommodate the Mustang. Elfangor felt the powerful suction coming from the tube, pulling him into the tunnel. Elfangor accelerated within the tunnel, but there was no feeling of freedom, nor the sense of exhilaration that had accompanied his earlier adventure in the Mustang.

The walls seemed to close in around him, and the only light was from the ones mounted on the Mustang itself. White lights shining ahead, and red lights shining behind. Elfangor had to bend his head, to keep his stalk eyes from being injured.

It was a long time in that tunnel, or at least it seemed that way to Elfangor, since fear came make time seem to stop. Elfangor knew that he was on his way to a massacre, and he didn't like the odds for the Taxxons, but still he drove on. Finally, with a sudden jolt, Elfangor and his Mustang were out of the tunnel.

The car flew into the air after hitting a steep incline, and the engine roared as the wheels spun with nothing under them. The Mustang crashed back to the ground, the hard rubber tires causing the front end to bounce back up once before it was able to rest all four wheels on the Taxxon world's soil. The Mustang ripped into the sandy soil and sped away.

In the intermittent flashes of Dracon beams, Elfangor saw something more horrific than anything else he had seen in this awful day. There were mutilated Taxxon carcasses strewn all over the battlefield, Taxxons were busily devouring the dead. Whether they were Arbron's Taxxons or Taxxon-Controllers, Elfangor didn't know, either side looked the same.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a Taxxon leapt directly into Elfangor's path. Flesh against metal, and Taxxon flesh gave way to impact more easily than any other kind Elfangor knew of. The Taxxon's body tore completely open, sending its organs scattering in almost all directions. Elfangor screamed at the sheer horror of it all.

But that was only small sample of the horrors that lay ahead.

Taxxons were screaming, though whether in pain or delight Elfangor would never be sure. Hork-Bajir fought the flailing Taxxons, sometimes without resorting to using the Dracon beams they had belted at their waists. It was not something Elfangor ever wanted to see again.

Elfangor could see that the battle had been raging for some time by now, though he didn't know how long, his inner awareness of time notwithstanding. Elfangor wondered how he was ever supposed to find the humans in this madness, when he himself could barely think. A particularly large Hork-Bajir spotted him then, turning and running as if to cut him off from the Taxxon army.

Only when it got a good look at him did the Controller shout "Andalite!" Elfangor turned and rammed the Hork-Bajir in the legs, sending him rolling and tumbling over the top of the car. More Controllers tried to stop him, Elfangor ran some down with the Mustang, and a few others had the sense to stay away after that.


	25. The Battle

Elfangor could at last see his goal, so different from the ugly Yeerk ships clustered around it. The _Jahar_ stood apart, removed from the slaughter around it simply by being above it. Elfangor could see two shapes on the boarding ramp.

Two shapes that were different from any host the Yeerks possessed. They were bipeds like the Hork-Bajir, but they did not have any of the natural weapons that made the Hork-Bajir so formidable. They also somehow managed to stay upright without a tail to balance them.

Crowded around the ship cradle was a writhing mass of Taxxons, perhaps a hundred or more. They were all trying to go up the boarding ramp, but thankfully most of them were shoving the others out of the way in their frenzy. A lone Taxxon already stood at the top of the ramp, but this one was trying to keep his brother and sister Taxxons off of the ramp. Elfangor had a feeling that he knew this particular Taxxon's name.

Arbron!

Elfangor plowed into the Taxxons, using the Mustang's front end the same way he had during most of the battle. Some Taxxons were crushed and splattered by the wheels, and Elfangor didn't look back, since he knew what he would see if he did.

Elfangor! I can't hold them back for much longer! Arbron sounded frantic.

Arbron, are these Taxxon-Controllers or are they more of your soldiers? Elfangor asked, not wanting to kill more of those on his side.

It doesn't matter now! There's no difference anymore, don't you see?! Blood has been spilled! You know what the hunger is like! Stop me Elfangor! Please!

With those last words, Arbron turned and raced up the ramp. Heading for Chapman and Loren, slavering mouth gaping open, ready to sink his teeth into one of them. Elfangor couldn't get to him without abandoning the Mustang, so that was just what he did. Leaping out of the car, Elfangor raised his tail and readied himself for battle.

The Taxxons tried to get in his way, but Elfangor cut them down and pushed them aside with quick swipes of his tail. He looked to where Arbron was, still on the ramp. He had apparently singled out Chapman as his next meal, and however much Elfangor did not like that particular human, his sense of morality would not let Elfangor leave him to be eaten by a Taxxon.

Elfangor leapt over the last Taxxon standing in his way, landing lightly on the boarding ramp.

Arbron stop! Don't do this! You have to fight it! Arbron, listen to me!

Arbron reared backward, preparing to stun Chapman by body-slamming him against the ramp. It was as if he hadn't even heard Elfangor.

Arbron, stop it now! I know you, you aren't like this! Arbron, listen!

That seemed to get through to him, because he hesitated but remained poised over Chapman. Chapman himself was scrambling backward, not unlike a crab. His lips were drawn back in a terrified grin. At that moment, Elfangor saw something worse than Taxxons. A thousand times worse.

Hork-Bajir-Controllers were pushing and shoving, and leaping their way through the milling ranks of Taxxons. One of them was familiar to Elfangor, very familiar.

Sub-Visser Seven grinned, watching Elfangor watch the advancing Hork-Bajir. _You're looking the wrong way, Andalite._ Sub-Visser Seven quickly wiped all emotion from his human face, in case someone looked in his direction.

"So we meet again at last, Andalite. Your name is Elfangor, right? That was the name you yelled so defiantly at me as you escaped. Wasn't it? You don't look happy to see me. I, on the other hand, am most pleased to see that the Taxxons haven't killed you yet. I was so hoping to have you all for myself."

Five Hork-Bajir advanced behind their Sub-Visser, leaving Elfangor to defend himself against half a dozen Hork-Bajir-Controllers. Elfangor knew that Arbron was still with him, but as a Taxxon, his friend was helpless if this situation turned into a fight. To make things even worse, Elfangor did not even know if he could _trust_ Arbron, or Chapman for that matter.

Chapman had not liked him in the first place, and now, after being captured by the Yeerks and nearly eaten by a Taxxon, Elfangor didn't know what Chapman's reaction would be. But, his most pressing concern was the small army of Hork-Bajir that was currently bearing down on him. Elfangor would deal with Chapman when and if it became necessary.

"Surrender, Elfangor," Sub-Visser Seven oozed. "I won't kill you. I'll just… use you. I'll leave this crude body and live inside your head. I'll wrap my body around that smug, arrogant Andalite brain of yours and make you my slave. And with that morphing power you have, I'll rule the galaxy before I'm done. It's either that or death, Elfangor. There is no third choice."

__

There is always a third choice, you filthy Yeerk. Elfangor didn't project these thoughts so that the Sub-Visser could hear them, since he didn't feel like getting into a debate with the insane, power-hungry creature. There was really no point.

Arbron turned away from Chapman then, coming to stand beside Elfangor.

I guess we're a long way from home, eh Elfangor? Arbron said, seemingly not sure whether to laugh ruefully or to sigh. We are one lost, lonely pair of _arisths_, aren't we? Tell that Yeerk scum to dream on, tell him that we're Andalites, and we don't surrender.

Smiling with his eyes, Elfangor turned back to Sub-Visser Seven. You heard my friend, Sub-Visser. If you want me, come and get me, Elfangor tried to put as much bravado as he could into those words.

In all the great stories and legends, that line had always frightened the bad guys. Saying that got them to hesitate, and gave the heroes time to rally a counterattack. In real life, as Elfangor now found out, it didn't quite work that way.

Sub-Visser Seven chuckled coldly, grinning his terrifying Hork-Bajir grin.

"Okay. I will come get you. Cut him down! Now!"

__

Make sure you survive, Elfangor. Or I will be most disappointed. Sub-Visser Seven thought, as he watched the battle from his vantage point on the ship's ramp.

Elfangor flicked his tail, readying himself to fight for his life. Again. _This is getting to be a habit,_ Elfangor thought to himself wryly. The Hork-Bajir leapt up the narrow ramp, but could only fit two of their people on at a time. Here, Elfangor clearly had the advantage.

Hork-Bajir were formidable opponents, to be sure, but their speed was a weakness that Elfangor could exploit. Everyone knew that Andalites were faster than Hork-Bajir, Elfangor had learned that himself when he was at the Academy. So he was not afraid of these Hork-Bajir coming at him now. The foremost Hork-Bajir slashed at Elfangor with his right wrist blade, and Elfangor severed both wrist and blade with a snap of his tail.

The second Hork-Bajir was either smarter or luckier than its comrade, Elfangor couldn't decide which. But he supposed it didn't really matter, as the approaching Controller shoved past his wounded comrade and ran at Elfangor's left side. Another one swung his body up and over the railing and landed on the ramp, standing now on Elfangor's right. The wounded Hork-Bajir was also a problem, as he still had at least four appendages left to attack with.

The odds, which had not been all that favorable to begin with, began to rapidly get worse. More Hork-Bajir began to rush up the ramp, crowding Elfangor and forcing him to move back. From that time on, the battle became a melee.

Hork-Bajir slashed at him, and Elfangor countered with quick swipes of his tail, severing blades as well as the arms, legs, or tails that they were attached to. Arbron tried to block the Hork-Bajir with his body, but they just shoved past him, and Arbron had to be very careful not to be injured. Not with all the ravenous Taxxons crowding around the boarding ramp.

"Elfangor, look out!" Loren shouted, as more Hork-Bajir swarmed up the ramp.

"What are you waiting for, you idiots?! Get him! He's only one Andalite!" Sub-Visser Seven shouted, enraged.

Elfangor fell back, pressed by the increasing numbers of Hork-Bajir. With no time to plan his moves, Elfangor was forced to react to the Hork-Bajir purely on instinct. Elfangor had already suffered a long cut across his left shoulder, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before he would be unable to defend himself any longer.

Another Hork-Bajir came up the ramp, and Elfangor cocked his tail back. Preparing to strike again. But, then this new Hork-Bajir did a most unexpected thing: he stopped and stood looking at Elfangor. He seemed to grin, like he was actually pleased to see that Elfangor was alive, rather than wanting to kill him.


	26. The Madness of Alloran

So, how are you enjoying the war, _aristh _Elfangor? The Hork-Bajir asked, using Andalite thought-speak.

__

War-Prince Alloran?! Elfangor was so surprised, he almost ignored the Hork-Bajir who were attacking him. Elfangor managed to regain his composure somewhat, at least enough of it to keep himself alive. Elfangor kept his right stalk eye trained on Alloran.

That was how Elfangor saw Alloran trap the Sub-Visser with a wrist blade against his throat.

Don't move, Sub-Visser. Don't even breathe. Call off your soldiers. Do it now, or I'll laugh as your head goes rolling across the ground.

"Hold! Back away!"

As the Hork-Bajir-Controllers backed up, leaving Elfangor, Arbron, and the two humans alone on the boarding ramp, Elfangor took the first deep breath he had taken since the battle had started. Loren ran up and pressed her hands against the still bleeding gash in Elfangor's chest, the second large wound that he had received in the battle. The pressure slowed the loss of blood, at least somewhat.

"You're still alive!" Loren said happily, not removing her hands from Elfangor's chest wound. "I was so worried."

Elfangor smiled with his eyes, touching Loren's left arm with his right hand. He was glad that she was safe, since he had been worried after seeing her be captured by the Yeerks.

Now, here's what we're going to do, Yeerk Alloran continued, ignoring the intimate moment that Elfangor and Loren were sharing. As far as he was concerned, it was none of his business. The two humans, my friends, and I are going to go back aboard the _Jahar_. You, Sub-Visser, are going to come with us. Once we get off the cradle, we'll toss you back out. How does that sound to you?

"Do I really have a choice in the matter?"

There is always a choice, Yeerk. I can cut you right out of that Hork-Bajir host and feed you to my friend the Taxxon. That's one of your options. Or else you can order your troops back down the ramp. All the way down.

"Whatever happened to the Andalites' reputation for decency and kindness?" Sub-Visser Seven mocked.

What happened? We left that image in the ashes of the Hork-Bajir homeworld.

"You were _there_?"

I was there. My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. War-Prince Alloran.

This finally shut the Sub-Visser up; in fact, it was the first time that Elfangor could recall the Sub-Visser actually seeming… afraid. It was certainly a far cry from his usual, arrogant demeanor. As the six of them backed up the ramp, Alloran dragging the Sub-Visser by his neck, Arbron turned and walked back down the ramp.

Come with us, Arbron, Elfangor implored, taking a step toward Arbron, back down the ramp. Look around you. The free Taxxons have lost; the Living Hive will probably be destroyed. There's no place for you here.

Elfangor, there's no place for me anywhere.

You can't stay here. Elfangor was getting desperate now. Who's going to remind me not to be so stiff all the time? Who's going to laugh at me when I start talking about being a great Prince?

You go on, Elfangor, Arbron said sadly. Go save the galaxy.

Leave him, Alloran said, firmly but kindly. _Aristh_, I mean _Warrior _Arbron is a casualty of war.

Once they were all aboard the _Jahar_, Alloran sealed the hatch and they launched the ship. The Yeerks were too preoccupied with the Taxxon attacks to do anything about the Andalite ship, if the even noticed it. At least, that was what Elfangor told himself.

Alloran was starting to demorph from his Hork-Bajir form; he must have seen Elfangor's expression of relief. He turned to Elfangor with a look that could only be described as… smug.

Did you think I had ended up like Arbron? Trapped? A _nothlit_? No, _aristh_ Elfangor, I am still myself.

I'm very glad about that, sir.

Sub-Visser Seven was standing, silent, in the far corner of the _Jahar's_ main cabin. Loren seemed to be in shock, staring numbly at nowhere in particular. Chapman… Chapman seemed to actually be afraid. As if he expected to be severely punished, or even killed for what he had done. If he was, it was no less than he deserved.

What are your orders, sir?

Orders? Alloran asked, sounding incredulous. Ah, now you want my orders. Now you _want_ me to tell you what to do. When I ordered you to flush those Yeerk pools out into space, you disobeyed me.

__

What? Alloran was still thinking about _that_? It had been two days since they had come to this planet aboard the Taxxon transport ship. Elfangor did not want to get into another argument with Alloran, though, and so he stayed silent. Elfangor knew that his refusal to follow Alloran's orders aboard the Taxxon transport ship had undoubtedly cost him what was left of his military career, but somehow Elfangor couldn't make himself care.

The Yeerks in those pools had been helpless, and he had not been - nor would he ever be - in the habit of killing helpless creatures. Even if the were Yeerks. Elfangor could see that Alloran wouldn't understand this line of reasoning, so he stayed silent about that, too.

Sir, the Time Matrix is- 

Silence, you young fool! Alloran snapped. We don't have time for that yet. We first have to take care of some business that you would not let me take care of earlier. That transport ship full of Yeerks is still in its cradle. It hasn't even been unloaded yet. What do you think I was doing for the last day and a half? I've been hiding in the shadows, morphing and demorphing. I've been watching that ship.

With all due respect, War-Prince Alloran, is that really the most important thing to do?

Alloran glared at Elfangor with his main eyes, seething with barely suppressed rage. How dare this _child_ question his judgment? What did _he_ know of war?

The most important thing in war is to destroy your enemies, _aristh_ Elfangor! There is nothing more important than that! Do you understand that?

Alloran turned his stalk eyes to regard Sub-Visser, glaring harder at him than he had at Elfangor.

You understand, don't you? All of you Yeerks understand.

"You said you would let me go!" Sub-Visser Seven said, sounding like he was pleading.

And so I will, Alloran said, sounding almost jovial now. Open the hatch, _aristh_ Elfangor, the Sub-Visser is going to find out if that Hork-Bajir body of his can fly!

__

He is insane! Elfangor thought to himself. But he did as he was ordered, since he did not want to start a fight with Alloran. The Sub-Visser tensed up, preparing to fight if he had to. But then, he glanced over at Chapman, and something - some look - seemed to pass between them. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and Elfangor wasn't even sure he'd seen it at all.

The Sub-Visser's entire body relaxed, even his eyes half-closed. 

Slow to dead stop. What is our altitude?

Fifteen-thousand feet. We are still within the atmosphere. Airspeed is now at dead stop, Elfangor informed him, his silent voice flat and emotionless.

Dead stop, Alloran mused. How appropriate. Open the hatch, _aristh_ Elfangor.

Elfangor hesitated. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong. But what could he, alone, do against Alloran? He opened the hatch.

The warm wind blew in, ruffling Loren's hair and making the golden strands sparkle. 

Get out, Yeerk, Alloran hissed.

Elfangor turned away from the hatch, closing his main eyes and focusing his stalk eyes on the instrument panel. Elfangor was _not_ going to watch this.

Close the hatch, Alloran sounded satisfied.

Elfangor felt sick. The Sub-Visser was gone, and when Elfangor checked the exterior display screens, he saw a minute figure tumbling through the clouds. Elfangor looked away.

Now we go back and fry that transport ship, Alloran said briskly. Good to see you've grown up a little_ aristh_ Elfangor. Take us in over the southeastern corner of the spaceport. Maintain present altitude. Then we can go and pick up our missing Time Matrix, eh Elfangor? Alloran sounded jovial again, as if this was all just a game to him.


	27. Revelation

Perhaps he thought it was, and that was what sickened Elfangor the most. But more than that, Elfangor was tired. Heartsick from thinking of Arbron, and weary of being on a planet was controlled by his people's worst enemy. So he did as he was told.

Elfangor noticed that Loren was watching him. She seemed afraid, which was understandable given what she had just gone through. But, there was something in her eyes that made Elfangor uneasy. Chapman seemed tense, afraid of what they might do to him. But his eyes… he had the same hardness in his eyes that Elfangor had seen in Loren's.

What made you come back with us? Elfangor demanded of the male human. Do you expect mercy from us? You betrayed us. You betrayed your fellow human. You told the Yeerks about Earth. You betrayed your entire species.

"Not my fault," Chapman snapped. "I was on Earth, minding my own business. I didn't ask to be captured by the Skrit Na. I didn't ask to be taken halfway across the galaxy by you Andalites. I was just trying to protect myself."

By making deals with the Yeerks? Alloran laughed. The Yeerks do not make deals, human. They enslave.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Chapman sneered. Then he seemed to slump, losing the tough façade he'd put up. "Look, I'm sorry, all right? I'm just a stupid kid, okay? Give me a break."

We are coming back over the spaceport, Elfangor announced, sounding listless. There is a lot of smoke, but you should still be able to get a good targeting lock with the shredder.

Neither Andalite spoke, and Alloran just stared out the forward screen. With the magnification set at maximum, the elder Andalite could see the devastation that the Taxxons had caused. The Bug fighters at the spaceport had almost all been disabled. Some were burning, and others had been tilted on their sides.

The army that the Living Hive had assembled had managed to do a great amount of damage to the Yeerks, that much was obvious. But, Elfangor could also see the platoons of Hork-Bajir surrounding the remaining Taxxons. Other Taxxons were busily feeding. Somewhere in that mess was Arbron, but Elfangor couldn't tell one Taxxon from another, even after having spent an entire day among them.

He was still worried about Arbron, and he knew he would be until they left this planet, and probably for a long time after that. Elfangor looked over at Alloran. The War-Prince was currently calibrating the targeting scanners. The older Andalite was taking his time, not wanting to chance missing a shot that he considered so important.

Once he had targeted the transport ship, Alloran seemed to notice Elfangor's gaze. Taking a half step back from the weapons station, Alloran waved Elfangor over to the firing controls. Elfangor came over to the indicated spot, wondering why Alloran had not fired yet.

Fire, _aristh_ Elfangor, Alloran ordered.

Uncomprehending at first, Elfangor almost asked Alloran to repeat the order. Still unable to understand his commander's order, Elfangor turned to face him.

What?

I said fire, Alloran snapped. Fry those Yeerks. You spared them once, now undo that mistake. No one will have to know of your earlier cowardice.

Elfangor stared at the button that would fire the _Jahar's_ Shredder cannon. This was war, in war you destroyed your enemies. Killed them if you could. And Alloran was a War-Prince, that meant that Elfangor was practically required to follow his orders, no matter how immoral they might be.

Elfangor's finger hovered over the firing stud. There were more than five thousand Yeerks inside that transport ship. Elfangor didn't know the real number, since he hadn't taken the time to count. They _were_ the enemy, that was true.

But, to kill so many of them, with a simple movement of his finger? No. That, Elfangor could not make himself do, no matter what Alloran did to him for refusing. He stepped back from the control console. Alloran's tail blade was at his throat the minute the War-Prince noticed this action.

Do you think you can fight a clean war, Elfangor? Alloran demanded. Is that it? Or are you one of those that are happy to have someone like me doing the dirty work?

They are defenseless, Elfangor answered, as calmly as he could under the circumstances.

They are the _enemy_! Alloran screamed. Hypocrites! You're all a bunch of stupid hypocrites! We lost the Hork-Bajir war because of weak, moralizing fools like you! Because of fools like you, I am disgraced and shunned. Sent off on trivial errands with nothing but a pair of _arisths_ under my command!

War-Prince Alloran, I honor you, but - 

What does it matter how you kill the enemy? Alloran demanded, clearly not listening to a word Elfangor had said. What does it matter if you kill them with a tail blade, or a Shredder, or a Quantum Virus?

__

A Quantum Virus?! Elfangor thought, horrified. He had heard rumors, all Andalites had, that the Yeerks had accused them of using a Quantum Virus against them. Everyone had just assumed the Yeerks were lying, trying to make the Andalite military look bad in the eyes of the people. Now, to find out that those allegations were true… it was almost incomprehensible.

And to be standing next to the one responsible for the death of so many innocent Hork-Bajir… Elfangor did not even want to _think_ about that.

You… you used a Quantum Virus on the Hork-Bajir world? Elfangor asked, wanting Alloran to deny it. Wanting him to say that he had just been giving another example of killing methods, or something to that effect.


	28. Esplin's new host

Alloran did no such thing. I cannot have a weak, cowardly fool like you messing up - 

Alloran's stalk eyes caught a glimpse of movement, not very fast by the standards of his people, but unexpected enough that it didn't have to be.

***

Sub-Visser Seven grinned. Now was his chance! Elfangor and the murderer Alloran were both distracted by what was apparently an argument between the two of them, judging by the fact that Alloran's tail blade was at Elfangor's throat.

The Sub-Visser didn't much care about the Andalites' stupid little personality conflict, but it _did _give him the time he needed to attack. He had decided that there was no point in taking a juvenile host like Elfangor, when he could have one that was in its physical prime.

Chapman, his host, was just eager to get back at the Andalites for dragging him this far from his home. Sub-Visser Seven made a note to give Chapman to one of his more loyal and intelligent lieutenants. Chapman was a shrewd and calculating human; it was best not to waste such talents.

***

Elfangor saw the human male smack Alloran on the right side of his head. The fingers on his hand were wrapped around each other in such a way that the hand itself could be used as a rather effective bludgeon. Alloran's head snapped back, but from surprise rather than from actual pain, and Elfangor took that moment to slap the War-Prince's head with the flat of his tail blade.

The insane War-Prince fell to the ground, unconscious. Chapman grinned. Elfangor would later recall this moment when he realized what had happened, but for now he went over to the emergency medical kit that was stored on the bridge. Taking out a hypo that contained a powerful sedative.

Elfangor emptied the hypo into Alloran's bloodstream, knowing now that the older Andalite would not wake up until the sedative wore off. It would take hours before that would happen, Elfangor knew.

"Now what?" Chapman asked, calm despite recent events.

Now what?! Now what? I just knocked out my own Prince! Elfangor shouted, on the verge of panicking.

Shaking, still in shock, Elfangor knew that he couldn't just lay down and give up. Even if he was as much of a fool as Alloran had insisted, he was now the only one who could get them off this cursed planet.

We have to pick something up first, Elfangor struggled to remain as calm as he could while making this declaration. Then we are getting as far from this evil place as this ship can carry us!

Chapman nodded. Loren came up to him and put her hands on Elfangor's chest wound. It had been starting to scab over, but the exertion of knocking Alloran unconscious had torn it open again. Loren tore off a strip from the bottom of her shirt and used it to bandage the wound.

"Is life always this crazy for you space cadets?" she asked wryly.

Oh, yes, Elfangor chuckled bitterly. Infiltrate the Taxxon homeworld, help inspire a Taxxon civil war, locate the legendary Time Matrix, mutiny against my Prince… all in the company of a pair of two-legged, tailess aliens. Business as usual.

Loren laughed, and Elfangor felt a little bit better.

"Hey, you made a joke. I didn't think you did humor, Elfangor."

When the world goes mad, what else _can_ you do? he turned to gaze out the forward viewscreen, his expression one of introspection. I wonder if Arbron knew the world was mad?

"Speaking of crazy," Loren went on with a sad sort of smile. "Did I really see you driving a bright yellow Mustang back there?"

It was a wonderful machine. Primitive, but strangely enjoyable.

"Guys, no matter what planet you come from, you're all the same," Loren said with weary affection.

Elfangor decided not to comment on that, instead focusing on the ship. He cut thrust and watched the ground rise slowly up to meet them.

There it is. We're going down. I need to clear away the wreckage so that the tractor beam can latch on to the Time Matrix.

Elfangor landed the ship away from the scattered debris, in a narrow valley that bordered the spaceport on its left side. Elfangor grabbed one of the ship's complement of handheld Shredders, then dashed out the open hatch. It took him about fifteen minutes to burn away the shrapnel and wreckage covering the Time Matrix.

When he finally had it uncovered, Elfangor let himself relax. It was lucky that Chapman hadn't told them about it when they had captured him. And it was lucky that Loren hadn't told them anything when they were probably interrogating her. And it was also lucky that the humans had managed to get back to the _Jahar_, even in the midst of a full-scale Taxxon assault.

Lucky. Too lucky.

__

I really am a fool! Elfangor berated himself.

Elfangor shivered, knowing suddenly what was waiting for him inside the _Jahar_. Elfangor was hidden behind the Time Matrix, out of sight of anyone who might be looking out of the ship's hatch. Elfangor quickly reset his Shredder to stun.

Three quick shots, that was what he would need. Yes. _Three._

Elfangor came out from behind the Time Matrix, running so as to present a more difficult target. Loren fired a Dracon beam at him, but his sudden turn made her miss. He did not miss, and Loren dropped to the ground, twitching like she'd just been badly shocked. Chapman was the next to try and shoot him, but he was unsteady from the ordeal that he had just gone through.

The Dracon beam missed by more than a foot, and Elfangor was easily able to stun the former Human-Controller. There was one more shot he had to make, and Elfangor had the awful feeling that he was running out of time. Elfangor caught a sudden glimpse of fast movement, just to his far left.

He fired again, but not quickly enough to incapacitate his new enemy. His new enemy, the former War-Prince Alloran, now Sub-Visser Seven. He _did_ manage to stun the Andalite-Controller's arm, though, and the Dracon beam that the Yeerk had been holding went clattering to the rubble-strewn ground.

Very good, Elfangor, the Sub-Visser said, sounding almost like Alloran had when he had been talking about destroying the Yeerk transport ship. As if this was all one monumental joke. It took you awhile, but you figured it out at last.

Sub-Visser Seven.

Of course. But not for much longer, I think. After all, I'm the first one to take an Andalite as my host. I'd say I can count on a major promotion, wouldn't you? the Sub-Visser said, and laughed.


	29. Playacting

(You made Chapman a Controller. You were inside _his_ head this whole time. That Hork-Bajir I thought was you was just a trick,) Elfangor said, not sure if he was angrier at the Sub-Visser, or himself for being so stupid.

(Why of course. And one of my people was inside Loren's head, but I think you figured that out already. And, while you so considerately worked to free the Time Matrix from this rubble for me, I revived Alloran and transferred myself into him. It was very kind of you to knock the old warrior out for me, Elfangor. I wasn't sure if I could handle him myself, and in a human no less. Alloran was a wily creature, a bit mad, yes, but he knew war. You saw for yourself how ruthless he was when he tossed that poor fool who was playing me out of the ship. Alloran was a true warrior.)

Elfangor hated himself at this moment, knowing that he was responsible for the creation of this, this abomination. That's what he was, an Abomination!

(Chapman told us about the Time Matrix, of course,) Sub-Visser Seven continued, ignoring the scathing glare that Elfangor was currently leveling at him. (But we still needed you to show us where it was. The attack by the Mountain Taxxons could have been a disaster. But, you know, it actually kept you from wondering just _how_ the two humans ended up so conveniently placed on the _Jahar_'s boarding ramp. You were too busy worrying about your fellow _aristh_ to wonder at the unlikelyhood of such a fortuitous coincidence.)

Elfangor shivered in revulsion, cursing himself with every vile epitaph he knew. _He_ was responsible for the creation of this Abomination. Himself and no other. _He _was the one who hadn't stopped to question his good luck at finding the humans so fast after they had been captured by the Yeerks; _he_ was the one who had knocked War-Prince Alloran unconscious, making it so much easier for Sub-Visser Seven to infest him. This whole situation was entirely _his fault_!

(But you know what the best part was?) Sub-Visser Seven taunted, laughing at the expression of sheer self-loathing on Elfangor's face. (I really couldn't have let you destroy that transport ship full of my people. It was a small matter, after all, to let that poor fool who was playing me die. But five thousand Yeerks? That simply _couldn't_ be allowed to happen. I would have had to try to stop you, and so would my lieutenant in the human girl. And then you and Alloran together would have probably made short work of us,)the Yeerks laughed again. (But oh no, Elfangor is one of those _good_ Andalites. You don't like killing prisoners, do you? he drawled. I'd therefore like to thank you for helping me obtain my current host. Oh, and the Time Matrix, of course.)

(I seem to be the only one with a weapon here, Sub-Visser,) Elfangor said, grasping at the only hope he currently had.

(There are a dozen Bug fighters closing in on this area even as we speak. You've lost this battle, little one. But you _did_ fight well, isn't that a comfort?)

(You'll be nothing but a cinder by the time they get here,) Elfangor snarled, hating the monstrosity he had helped create.

(No, I don't think so,) Sub-Visser Seven said with silky menace. (After all, you won't kill a helpless _prisoner_, would you? I have no weapon. I surrender to you, Elfangor,) he laughed again. (I surrender!)

Sub-Visser Seven spread Alloran's wide in a classic gesture of helplessness, and he kept laughing even as he did this. Elfangor raised his Shredder, still set on stun, and aimed it at the Sub-Visser.

(You're right, Sub-Visser, I won't kill you,) Elfangor fired. The stun setting knocked the Sub-Visser to the ground, where he lay unconscious, like Chapman and Loren.

Then, Elfangor set about dragging Loren's body back to relative safety onboard the _Jahar_. After a brief period of hesitation, owing to his extreme dislike for this particular human, he dragged Chapman aboard as well. Elfangor was just about to drag Alloran's body aboard as well, hoping to try and starve Sub-Visser Seven out of the War-Prince's head, when he saw that Bug fighters were indeed beginning to converge on the spot where he now stood.

There were only two of them, at first, but then two more joined the first two. And two more after that. Elfangor thought about running back aboard the _Jahar_, but he knew that he would never get off of the planet with so many watchful Yeerks around.

Unless… Sub-Visser Seven _must_ have told his troops that he was probably going to be in an Andalite body the next time they saw him. How else would he avoid being killed by those on his own side? But could the Yeerks tell one Andalite from another?

Elfangor walked calmly back into the _Jahar_, so as not to arouse any suspicion from the Yeerks overhead. Once he was inside, Elfangor closed the hatch and sealed it tight, punching up ship-to-ship communication once he was secure. The face of a suspicious Hork-Bajir-Controller appeared on the screen in front of him. Elfangor composed himself, knowing that his only hope was to bluff his way out.

The Controller's face showed the expected hatred. He thought he was dealing with an Andalite. He was, but Elfangor wasn't about to let him find out about_ that_.

(What? You don't recognize your Sub-Visser?! I have done it, you fool! As I said I would! I have taken an Andalite body as my host!) Elfangor made sure not to sound uncertain, since that would be out of character for the arrogant Sub-Visser. (Do you see the Andalite down there on the ground?)

"Yes, Sub-Visser Seven," the Controller answered, still sounding a bit unconvinced.

(Good. You're not blind as well as stupid. I want to see him run. As soon as I have lifted off, make him run! And, when he is good and tired, when his legs buckle from exhaustion, I want you to make him dead! You hear me?! And if you fail me, I will feed you to the Taxxons. Sub-Visser Seven, out.)

Elfangor didn't wait for an answer, eager to get the Time Matrix and get off this planet. He quickly lifted off, guiding the _Jahar _over the rubble-strewn ground. Just out of curiosity, and perhaps a little bit of vindictiveness, Elfangor panned the ship's viewfinder until Sub-Visser Seven was centered in it. He saw the Sub-Visser regain his footing, and that was when one of the circling Bug fighters fired the first Dracon beam.

Elfangor would give the Sub-Visser credit for one thing: he was certainly not stupid. He knew that there would be no reasoning with the Yeerks in those ships. For a moment, Elfangor wondered what would happen to the Controllers aboard those ships when the Sub-Visser got to them, then he decided that he probably didn't want to know.


	30. Riding with Yeerks

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, Elfangor guided the _Jahar_ over the fragments of the Skrit Na ship. Locking on to the Time Matrix with the _Jahar'_s tractor-beam, Elfangor piloted the _Jahar_ higher. The tractor-beam pulled the off-white sphere snugly against the _Jahar'_s belly, where Elfangor lashed it in place with energy ropes.

The _Jahar_ rose slowly through the atmosphere of the Taxxon planet, passing the strangely bright clouds and heading back to space. That was when the Yeerks began to suspect something. Elfangor was contacted by another one of the Hork-Bajir-Controllers at the base.

"Sub-Visser Seven, planetary control respectfully directs you to land."

Elfangor tried to bluff his way out again, but when he still refused to turn around and land, they knew that he was not who he was pretending to be. The Bug fighters turned back toward the _Jahar_, closing in around Elfangor like a noose. By that time, though, Elfangor had already ordered the ship's computer to go to Maximum Burn.

Elfangor was quickly out of the gravity-well of the planet. Soon after that, he lost himself in the white void of Zero-space.

***

****

A day later…

"So this is Zero-space. We've been in it for a full day, and I still don't understand what it is," Loren said, staring out the forward screen.

Zero-space isn't anything, really, Elfangor answered, looking at Loren through his stalk eyes. It's antispace. Like antimatter and antigravity. Zero-space is antispace.

In truth, Elfangor was amazed that Loren could speak at all, let alone be so blasé sounding about something that still awed even _him_ sometimes. The Yeerk in Loren's had, luckily for them, been at the end of its three-day feeding cycle. Elfangor had therefore made a deal with the hungry Yeerk: it could either stay in Loren's head and starve to death, or it could come out and Elfangor would put it in stasis so it could possibly be revived at some later date.

The Yeerk had chosen the second option, and Elfangor had frozen it like he promised to. Someday, the Yeerk might be found and revived. But it was more likely that it would fall into the gravity well of a star and be incinerated. Especially since Elfangor had made sure to eject it close to one.

Maybe that could be considered not being true to the spirit of his deal with the Yeerk, but Elfangor didn't care anymore. He had failed utterly, so what was the point in trying anymore? Besides, as Alloran had said, there was no such thing as fair play in wartime. Elfangor had learned that, too late to change anything that he'd done, but he would remember it.

"Have you decided where we're going, Elfangor?" Loren asked, cutting in to Elfangor's self-recrimination.

"He doesn't know," Chapman snapped. "Elfangor's confused. Isn't that right? He screwed up royally. Got Arbron trapped in one of those centipede bodies. Then, as if that wasn't stupid enough, he managed to get Alloran made into the first Andalite-Controller in the galaxy. It's gonna be really tough explaining all this to the folks back home, ain't it?"

Elfangor ignored Chapman's blathering. Home. There was no place for him on the Andalite world anymore, so 'home' had become a word with no meaning.

"Elfangor, snap out of it," Loren said suddenly. "We're going in circles in Zero-space."

Yes, I know.

"You did the best you could, but you're still just a kid. Like me."

I am an _aristh_ in the Andalite military, Elfangor said bitterly. I disobeyed my Prince and caused him to be enslaved by the Yeerks. They will now be able to learn everything Alloran knows about our defenses. Everything he knows about the capabilities of our weapons. Everything that Alloran knows about the locations of our ships. At least Alloran wasn't a scientist, so he can't give the Yeerks morphing technology, or any of our advanced computer software. But still, it will be the greatest intelligence victory in Yeerk history.

"See?" Chapman said smugly. "I was right to throw in with the Yeerks. You Andalites are doomed. That is…" he grinned tauntingly at Elfangor.

"Why don't you just shut up," Loren snapped.

Chapman ignored her. "Unless you Andalites are willing to use that Time Matrix thing. Go back in time, find that first little tribe of Yeerk slugs, and kill every one of them." Chapman spread his hands, palms up, speaking as if it was all so simple. "What do they call that again? Oh yeah, genocide. Think you're up for a little genocide, Elfangor?"

Don't waste your time taunting me, human. It won't work.

"Huh? What are you talking about, Elfangor?" Loren asked, slightly confused.

I have no doubt that Sub-Visser Seven left instructions with this human, just in case his plans were to fail. To use the Time Matrix I would have to drop out of Zero-space. And the tracking beacon that the Yeerks have no doubt placed on this ship would broadcast my location to any Yeerk ship in this vicinity.

Chapman seemed to deflate after Elfangor had finished speaking, and Elfangor knew that he had guessed right. He was not _that_ stupid, his previous actions notwithstanding. He was not going to fall for some stupid Yeerk ruse… Wait!

Maybe that was just what he _should _do. He remembered that his old Dome ship, the _StarSword_, was going to be meeting up with another ship to search for an elusive Yeerk task force. They were supposed to be meeting the other ship in the Graysha nebula. Two Dome ships, the fleets of fighters from both, and the _Jahar_ should be enough to deal with whatever the Yeerks could bring to bear.

Elfangor turned to the navigation controls, typing in the coordinates for the target nebula.

"You have a plan now, Elfangor?"

More or less, he muttered, already beginning to second-guess his meager plan. There is a place called the Graysha nebula. We don't know much about it, but there are rumors of a sentient species in that area. And there are also rumors that the Yeerks are exploring the nebula. My old ship, the _StarSword_, went there to see if they could find a Yeerk task force they were pursuing.

"So, we're going to go there? Elfangor… is this nebula any closer to Earth?"

I'm afraid not.

"Am I… am I ever going to get back home?"

Loren, I will do my best.

"And we've all seen how good Elfangor's "best" is," Chapman sneered, making quotation marks in the air with his hands. "You might as well kiss Earth good-bye."

"Why don't you shut up, you idiot," Loren snapped at Chapman.


	31. Back to the fleet

Elfangor ignored them. We will emerge into realspace soon. If we're lucky, we won't be too far from the _StarSword_. If we're even luckier, there will be additional Andalite ships close by. From that point, it will only take an hour or so for the Yeerks to start showing up.

"What happens then?" Loren asked.

Space battle, I suppose. Andalite ships against Yeerks ships. And us, of course.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Yes. Show me the best way to tie up a human. Elfangor glared at Chapman. I don't want to have any distractions.

Loren managed to find some spare conduit hose, though she didn't really know what it was for. Coming back into the main cockpit area, Loren helped Elfangor tie Chapman up. They tied his arms behind his back, then tied his legs together and tied them to his arms. When they'd finished, there was still a bit of spare hose left. It was Loren who found a use for the excess.

"One last thing," Loren said, as she gagged Chapman with the hose. "There. Now we won't even have to listen to him." Loren smiled smugly.

To silence an Andalite, you would have to knock him unconscious, Elfangor said, surprised, since he had never considered the possibility of silencing a creature that used mouth-sounds to speak with a piece of hose. This won't hurt him?

"No, unfortunately." Loren grinned to show she'd been joking.

Elfangor was amazed. After all that she had been through, all the horrors that she had seen, Loren was still able to laugh. Maybe he had been wrong when he had assumed that humor was a weakness. Elfangor wondered if Arbron could still laugh, after all that had happened to him.

"Elfangor… aren't you tempted at all by what Chapman just suggested? I mean, if it were me, I might want to use that time machine thing to change a few things. You know?"

Maybe to avoid being captured by the Skrit Na in the first place? Elfangor asked.

"No, nothing like that." Loren smiled at Elfangor. "My life was pretty dull before all this happened. Listen," she paused for a moment, to gather her wits. "I know that when you take me back to Earth you're going to erase all my memories about this. So I just want you to know that, even though it was horrible sometimes, I wouldn't have wanted to never meet you. If it wasn't for my mom worrying and all…" Loren's voice dropped to a whisper. "I think I might want to stay."

Elfangor didn't know exactly what Loren had said last, but he liked what he'd heard up to that point.

Aboard the Skrit Na ship, where I found the Mustang, I also found pictures of Earth. It looked very beautiful. Wonderful, tasty-looking grass, and tall trees and streams of water that bubbled over stones. Is your home like that?

"We do have places like that," Loren said with a sad sort of smile. "There was a place we went to once, back when I was little and my dad still seemed to care about things. Before he went off to war. We camped out in a tent together. It was called Yosemite. Yosemite is like that."

And, did you stick tiny white cylinders in your mouths and marvel at the beauty of it all?

"Tiny white cylinders?" Loren looked puzzled. Suddenly, she started laughing. "You were looking at cigarette ads!" She laughed some more. "Those small white cylinders are called cigarettes. They're very bad for you. In fact, they make you sick."

So, humans go out to beautiful places and use sickening cylinders? Why?

By this time, however, Loren was laughing too much to give him any kind of answer. Soon, even though Elfangor hadn't the slightest idea what Loren found so funny, he started laughing too. Silent laughter that echoed inside both their minds.


	32. Lessons in Time

"So," Loren began, after they had both had a few minutes to calm down. And in Loren's case, to catch her breath. "Why _don't _you want to use the Time Matrix?"

They say that you shouldn't just go messing around with time. That it's extremely complicated. It's true that I could go back and kill the first group of Yeerks to evolve, but who knows what else that would change? Besides, to be honest, I guess I'm afraid of the Ellimists.

"The Ellimists? Who are they?"

Well, according to what some Andalites say, the Ellimists are the race that built the Time Matrix. Of course, there are still those who say the Ellimists never existed, as well as others who say they're gone forever. And there are also those who say they never existed at all. But, most of them agree that it was the Ellimists who made the Time Matrix. A lot of them say that when the Ellimists first used the Time Matrix, they all vanished.

"Oh. So, you think that if you used the Time Matrix, you'd disappear like the Ellimists did?"

Either that, or I would just make them angry.

"So, what _are_ these Ellimists, anyway?"

As I said before, the Ellimists are the race that created the Time Matrix, Elfangor paused, wondering how to better explain something that was really only a myth in his world. They are rumored to be all-powerful beings, who interfere with the lives of others for their own amusement. They are also said to live beyond the normal spacetime dimensions that we inhabit. Of course, no one knows if these stories are really true. And now the Ellimists are simply considered characters from tales that Andalite mothers tell their children.

"Fairy tales," Loren said, nodding.

Are these fairies magical creatures in human mythology?

"Yeah. We have Fairies, and elves and leprechauns and Santa Claus and hobbits and werewolves and vampires," Loren giggled. "We even have aliens from outer space."

Yes, Elfangor said, laughing a bit himself. Those outer space aliens can be quite troublesome.

Loren put a hand on her chin; Elfangor was starting to recognize this as a pose Loren often took when she was thinking. He wondered briefly if all humans did this.

"But, doesn't the Time Matrix by itself prove that these Ellimists are real," she asked, after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

Well… I don't really know. Elfangor thought for a moment. If the Ellimists _are_ real, then they've moved beyond the normal spacetime dimensions that we're familiar with. If they truly _have_ moved beyond the four dimensions that we live in, then the Ellimists would have powers unlike anything that we have seen before. Imagine… never mind. Elfangor shook his head, something he had picked up from Loren, sure that she would not want to hear him go on and on about spacetime geometry.

"No, tell me. Unless you have something more important to do,"

There weren't any shipboard tasks that were clamoring for his attention right now. So, smiling at Loren's eagerness, Elfangor proceeded with his talk.

Well, as you probably already know, there are four spacetime dimensions that we normally experience. There are the directions forward/back, left/right and up/down. Then there is the fourth dimension, which is time. But, there are also six other dimensions. These are curled into themselves, so we don't even notice them. All we feel are the three dimensions of space, plus the one of time.

Loren nodded, this was pretty much what she had learned while in geometry class. Elfangor saw her nod, and wondered what the gesture meant; she didn't ask him to stop though, so he continued.

Imagine for a moment, that instead of being able to move in three dimensions, we were only able to move and see in two. Call these hypothetical creatures the Flatties. A Flatty couldn't move in the third dimension, just the other two.

"Like they lived on a piece of paper. Or a pane of glass."

Yes. It would be exactly as if they were drawn on a piece of paper. And if someone were to come along and draw a box around one of them, they would never be able to get out, because the lines of the box would be like walls to them. But imagine if a three-dimensional person, like one of us, came along. They would be able to lift the Flatty right up out of his box, and put him down somewhere else. The Flatty wouldn't know what was happening, of course, since the Flatties wouldn't know about the third dimension.

"So, what you're saying is that we're kind of like the Flatties. But we live in three dimensions, so we'd be Cubies, I guess."

Yes. And if a creature that existed in more dimensions than we did came along, they would be able to do things that seemed impossible from our point of view.

"These Ellimists, that's what they are? People who live in a higher dimension?"

Maybe. Like I said before, no one really knows about the Ellimists. All we know is that the Time Matrix was built a long time ago, by a race that once existed, and is now gone.

"Well, that's a relief," Loren said lightly, smiling at him.

So, yes. Maybe we could use the Time Matrix, and jump in and out of different time periods. But, we also might run the risk of disappearing like the Ellimists did.

"Or else we might just make these Ellimist guys angry."

Or that, Elfangor said.


	33. Turn and Return

Loren thought about what Elfangor had just said. Then she remembered all of the things that had just happened. She bit her lip, glaring at the floor as she thought of the stupid, bull-headed now Andalite-Controller that had gotten them into this fix. _Alloran just couldn't accept the fact that Elfangor still had a conscience. What a jerk. Not that I'm glad he's a Controller now or anything, but I'm really glad Chapman punched him._

"If we give the Time Matrix to your people, won't they use it even in spite of the dangers?"

Elfangor sighed, lowering his head and closing his main eyes. He was ashamed to admit this, but he could not deny the truth.

A week ago, I would have said that no matter the circumstances, no Andalite would do something that dishonorable.

"And now?" Loren prompted.

Elfangor sighed again.

And now, I know that desperate people in wartime do desperate, evil things.

"Whatever Alloran did on the Hork-Bajir planet, releasing that quantum virus, that was wrong wasn't it?"

Loren, Elfangor raised his eyes to look at her again. I don't know what's right or wrong anymore. I just don't know.

The navicomputer gave a soft beep, alerting them that they would soon be reentering normal space.

Ascending slightly, Darkblade leaned his head against the hull of the black ship. He was still extremely bored, but didn't want to chance losing track of the ship if he were to go exploring. Besides, it wasn't as if there was anything worth seeing on this worthless dirtball in the first place.

A slight warning sounded inside his head, not with the strange intensity of his othersense but with enough that he didn't disregard it. The pod had expended the last of its energy reserves and would need the use of his own energy if it were to survive. Pressing his left hand against the supple skin of the pod, he watched in mild surprise as one of the tentacles pulled itself free from the hull and wrapped around his upper arm.

A second twined itself around his right, lifting him into contact with the pod. The pod itself opened, slightly at first, and two more tendrils wound themselves around his ankles. Once he was safely inside, the pod closed and Darkblade detransformed. Shedding his clothes and storing them in subspace, Darkblade made himself comfortable for what would most likely be a very long ride.

His eyes closed slowly, and Darkblade felt himself slipping into the deep hibernation that he had not experienced in what felt like countless thousands of years. Curling his body into a fetal position by instinct alone, Darkblade's conscious mind shut down completely. As the teknopod began to generate oxygen one of the smaller bubbles flitted across his eyelashes, eliciting not even a twitch.

Sub-Visser Seven trotted back onto his Blade ship, still getting used to his new Andalite body. The mind within his newest body was strong, but nowhere near the level of his one-time Navari host. Perhaps that was a good thing, as he hadn't yet the strength of mind to subdue a true telepath.

His host, an Andalite War-Prince named Alloran-Semitur-Corrass, was infamous even among Andalites as a murderer of Hork-Bajir. Tilting his head slightly to the right, he held up his right hand. There were two extra fingers, and the fingers themselves were more slender even than those of the Navari. The skin was a soft blue, with downlike blue and tan fur, but those were the only dissimilarities.

As he stared at his host's hand, he pictured one with five strong but slender fingers. The skin had not the slightest tint of blue, and was instead a pale shade of ivory with a subtle hint of tan. Then he imagined that same hand, covered in armor as black as the hull of his Blade ship.

Curling his hand into a fist, he could just imagine a long silver blade appearing in his armor-encased hand. Remembering the wild laughter of the Navari as he slammed his blade into the spine of a Hork-Bajir, tearing its head off in the process, he heard a question from his currant host.

Admiring my body, you vile Yeerk? I promise you, when I gain my freedom I will truly enjoy killing you.

_If_, my friend. If you gain your freedom. And that is not a very encouraging prospect for you.

I am _not_ your friend Yeerk! I demand my freedom!

Oh, so you _demand_. Well, _that _makes a world of difference. I was going to simply ignore you. Now though, I think I will laugh in your proverbial face.

Alloran raged while the Sub-Visser did just that, laughing at Alloran's anger like the Navari had so often done to him. Now that he looked back, Sub-Visser Seven could appreciate the lessons in humiliation that the Navari had so subtly given him.

Who are you thinking about, Yeerk?

What makes you think I would tell you that?

Alloran fumed, but he soon fell silent. All the better, since the Sub-Visser was not particularly eager to tell his new host how much he had enjoyed his old one. Especially this host, who was so much less than the Navari had been.

None of the easy grace that had been the Navari's defining trait when not in his armor, nor the utter confidence of the invincible. Looking back, before his former host had caught a glimpse of a Yeerk, he could perfectly recall the Navari's penchant for actively seeking danger. Just so he could test his admirable skills against a new opponent, and he would always come out on top.

Crossing his arms, he noticed that he was absently stroking his left arm with his thumb. He had noticed the Navari had a habit of doing that when he was considering something, or when he would stare out at the sky with that strange look in his red eyes.

Even though his former host's thoughts had been closed off to him, he could still catch brief flashes of emotions. There was a deep sadness about him, but he seemed to be determined to ignore it. Wrenching himself out of those pleasant memories, Sub-Visser Seven turned his attention back to his surroundings.

He was receiving a transmission from Visser Five, routed through planetary control. Activating the audio as well as the visual communications, Sub-Visser Seven looked into the face of his superior. Visser Five possessed the body of a Calaision, a reptilian creature from the planet Meraeth.

"Sub-Visser Seven, so the rumors are true. I wondered if you had really taken one of those _creatures_ as your host."

Alloran bristled at the thinly veiled insult, but Sub-Visser Seven ignored him.

Visser Five, it's good to hear from you again. But I have a feeling you did not just contact me to ask about my new host.

Visser Five smiled, showing more fangs than were strictly comforting. Sub-Visser Seven and Visser Five were old friends, and Sub-Visser Seven wondered what Visser Five really wanted to talk about.

"Actually, I wanted to congratulate you. You have been promoted to Visser Thirty-two."

The newly minted Visser Thirty-two blinked in surprise, as he had not been aware of this until now. And he swelled with pride at the title. Even Alloran was momentarily silent, as Visser Thirty-two waited to see if his old friend had anything else to say to him. The reptilian Controller's smile widened into a predatory grin, not that you could really tell the difference.

"We have received a transmission from the homing beacon placed on the Andalite ship. They are located in a nebula over three hundred light-years from your present location. You, Visser Thirty-two, are to take a Pool ship and five fleets of Bug Fighters and annihilate the Andalite, and whatever assistance that he has managed to find."


	34. Chasing the Matrix

Visser Five paused for a breath, and Visser Thirty-two wondered what was coming next. The hunter's smile slowly dissolved, to be replaced by a quizzical look. One of pure curiosity.

"Incidentally, Visser Thirty-two, do you know what this creature is?"

A hologram appeared: one of a biped covered entirely in space-black armor. Visser Thirty-two was thankful, for the first time, that he didn't have a mouth. He was mostly thankful that he didn't have lips and a tongue, though. Licking or biting one's lips was impossible when one possessed neither.

The Visser's former host was staring into the recording device, crimson eyes alight with killing joy. He was winding up for a slash, legs bent, with his right hand wrapped around his silver blade. Visser Thirty-two remembered the way he had licked his lips in anticipation of the slaughter that was just beginning, and the Visser had a feeling that he would be doing the same when confronted with this image if not for his aforementioned oral deficiencies.

Careful not to let Visser Five see what he was doing, Visser Thirty-two quickly made a copy of the image. Hearing again the laughter of the Navari as he killed all the Hork-Bajir who opposed him, and remembering the way he would land in a half-crouch and look around before going after new prey. Visser Thirty-two knew that he was probably halfway across the galaxy by now, with the speed he had been traveling when he left. He would probably never come back.

No, Visser Five, I have never seen a creature like that before.

You are lying to your own superiors? Alloran asked, sounding shocked.

They would not have the power to take him on, Visser Thirty-two said offhandedly, distracted. Nor could they find him if he did not wish to be found.

Alloran mulled that over, wondering what had made the Yeerk so much less arrogant. Could he know this alien personally? Looking at the image on the display, Alloran studied the figure.

It was uniformly black, the only other colors being the red eyes and the bright silver blade the creature held. Alloran caught only a fleeting glimpse more, before the image disappeared and was replaced by a starfield. The starlines soon appeared to stretch into infinity, and then they were replaced by the unbroken blankness of Zero-Space.

***

The temperature was dropping ever lower, and soon not even the symbiotic bond between the Teknoman and the teknopod would be able to save them from freezing to death. So, instincts imbedded in the semi-sentient mind of the pod itself began to alter the chemicals within. The outer skin grew thick and tough, and the fluid slowly began to ice over.

But, instead of forming jagged crystals that would damage its still-living cargo, the gel merely thickened. Forming first a slush, then a jello-like substance as the liquid grew ever colder. Finally reaching its lowest possible temperature, only a few degrees above that of deep space.

Darkblade's own heartbeat was slowed to a crawl, and his body temperature lowered to just a few degrees above that of the teknopod itself.

***

Visser Thirty-two ordered the crew of his Blade ship to alert him when they found the Andalite, then he retired to his quarters. Concealing the disc with the copied image in his fist, the Visser strode calmly past his assorted underlings, impatient to view the recording again. Once he was back inside and had secured the door behind him, Visser Thirty-two quickly located his personal holographic projection unit.

As a Sub-Visser in charge of security, he had often taken schematics for potential defense systems to study further in his quarters. He had done the same for advance troop-placement schedules, to spot and correct any inefficiencies or errors. Now, though, he was using it for purely personal reasons.

Something he had never intended to do. Placing the disc in the projection unit and activating it, he watched the image resolve into a miniature version of his former host's armored form. Staring into the minute eyes, he wondered where the other was right now.

Why is this alien so important to you, Yeerk?

Visser Thirty-two ignored him. The panel beside his door sounded once, and he quickly deactivated the projector.


	35. Longing

Enter, The Visser ordered.

The doorway silently irised open, allowing the Hork-Bajir Controller to step inside. Inclining his head respectfully, the Controller addressed him.

"We have located the Andalite ship, Visser Thirty-two."

Excellent. I will come to the bridge shortly.

The Hork-Bajir Controller inclined his head once more, and left without another word. Casting a last fleeting glance at the projector with his left stalk-eye, the Visser followed his lead.

What is it about this armored alien that is so fascinating to you, you filthy Yeerk?

Keep asking, I may answer you someday.

Visser Thirty-two chuckled coldly as Alloran fumed, he was truly starting to enjoy this. Reaching the bridge Visser Thirty-two assumed his normal station in the center of the triangular area.

Onscreen.

An image of the nebula, which was called the Graysha by some species that the Visser didn't know about, appeared on the forward screen. The Blade ship then began scanning the surrounding area for the homing signal.

I thought the Yeerks knew _every_ species in the galaxy, Alloran sneered.

Be silent, slave.

The transmission signal flashed, notifying him of an incoming message. Pressing the link conformation panel, Visser Thirty-two waited to find out who had contacted his ship. And why.

The most unexpected face appeared on the screen. So his old friend Elfangor was calling, how strangely gratifying. Crossing his arms, Visser Thirty-two faced the holo-screen with an expression of supreme confidence.

Ah, Elfangor, I believe. Still have the Time Matrix, I hope? I'm here to take it from you.

The picture shifted slightly, from a prerecorded still to a live feed. Elfangor was glaring at him, livid rage barely held back by a thin veneer of grudging civility.

So, Sub-Visser Seven. You survived. Too bad, Elfangor said harshly.

I did survive, Visser Thirty-two said, feeling the need to brag. But you almost got me there, you really did. And by the way, it's no longer Sub-Visser Seven. I'm the first Yeerk to capture an Andalite body. I have already delivered more intelligence on Andalite fleet deployments than a century of spying could have yielded. So it's not _Sub-Visser_ anything anymore. You are now addressing _Visser_ Thirty-two.

Elfangor was unaware of the fact that the human Loren, obviously still a Controller, was coming up behind him. Aiming a Dracon beam at his upper-back, and waiting for the right moment. Concealing his surprise and delight, Visser Thirty-two waited to hear Elfangor's response. Knowing that he wouldn't have to listen for long.

You're still just a slug as far as I'm concerned. You want the Time Matrix? Come and take it from me. I promise you --

TSSSSEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Elfangor was cut off quite promptly as Loren shot him in the back. The screen deactivated as he fell, and Loren's grinning image vanished. Visser Thirty-two didn't waste any time for self-congratulation at the moment, instead watching as Loren powered down Alloran's ship, the _Jahar_. Powering up the Blade ship's own engines, Visser Thirty-two glided up to the smaller craft.

Calmly, he watched as the _Jahar_ grew larger and larger in the forward screen. He wondered briefly why Loren had not contacted him yet, but he figured that she had her own troubles. Restraining an Andalite, even one who was unconscious, would not be an easy task.

Brushing aside his idle musings, Visser Thirty-two deactivated the engines and let his craft coast for a few seconds, before activating the retro-rockets and bringing the Blade ship to a dead stop. He was growing a bit impatient with Loren's lack of response, but he held it in check. Barely.

Preparing his boarding tube and fitting it to the _Jahar's_ hull, he waited for the hatch to open. Impatient, Visser Thirty-two sped up the process, throwing the hatch open with a resonating boom. Someone inside the ship fired a Shredder, hitting one of the Hork-Bajir Controllers and knocking her out.

Going around the comatose Hork-Bajir, Visser Thirty-two fired his own Dracon beam. It hit the traitorous Human-Controller Loren, rendering her unconscious just as she had done with the Hork-Bajir. Visser Thirty-two was enraged that one of his most loyal lieutenants had betrayed him and sided with the Andalite filth.

But, could it be that Salan Nine-One-Four had not betrayed him, and instead been forced to abandon his human host? Now that he thought about it, that seemed more likely. He remembered that Salan had been at the end of his feeding cycle when he had been ordered to infest Loren, and he berated himself for not choosing a Yeerk from the pool instead of enlisting Salan.

But there was no time for such thoughts now, killing Elfangor took precedence. Stepping over Loren, Visser Thirty-two raised his Dracon beam. And something large slammed into the _Jahar_ with an audible crash.


	36. Asteroid Ambush

A small bubble flitted across the eyelid of a slumbering Teknoman. Two others brushed the sleeper's lashes in quick succession. The lashes fluttered, and two slanted crimson eyes opened. The teknopod burst, spilling its contents over the floor of the station.

The Teknoman slowly rose to her feet, running her clawed hands through her short lime colored hair. Concentrating, she retrieved her familiar well-worn clothes from subspace. A harsh male voice, one she and all the others aboard knew well, sounded in the silence of her mind.

__

Vasara.

Yes, lord Nalshanda?

Some unknown creatures have entered our territory. Activate the defenses, and see to it that any worthy aliens are taken.

I will do so, my lord Nalshanda.

Vasara felt Nalshanda's mental presence fade to a mere suggestion, just a subtle reminder that he was still there. Vasara made her way to the control panel, the workstation twisted on its supports. And inadvertently woke someone who had been meditating while leaning against it.

"Shivaru, what were you doing?"

__

Meditating, but it is of no consequence now. What are you_ doing, Vasara?_ Teknoman Shivaru had been born a mute. But, since all Teknomen could communicate telepathically with one another, this disability had caused him no trouble.

"Nalshanda has ordered me to activate the defense system he designed. And to oversee the capture of any worthy creatures."

__

You cannot easily do both at once, Vasara, Shivaru pointed out.

"That does not matter. Nalshanda has ordered me to do this, and I will not fail him," Vasara said stubbornly.

__

Do not overextend yourself, Vasara, there is no point. I will activate the defenses. You go and determine the worthiness of these aliens. Shivaru held up one hand to forestall Vasara's inevitable protest. _I will tell Nalshanda that it was I who said you should._

Vasara did not look happy to be ordered about by anyone but Nalshanda himself, but she did transform and fly to the airlock. Admitting only to herself that Shivaru did indeed have her best interests at heart. The bioengineered "living" asteroids floated in random nonpatterns, mimicking the real space debris that she had often sighted on her travels to other star systems.

At a signal from the Station's computer, their limited minds awakened and they began to move. Charging themselves with the bioenergy emitted from Vasara's own body, the asteroids followed her as she set out to investigate the fleet of unknown ships.

They were strangely shaped and did not look very dangerous, or even all that aerodynamic. They were just sitting there, it was as if they had deliberately come to this sector.

__

Well, they are about to learn what happens to any insolent, trespassing aliens who cross our borders.

Nalshanda had settled in this out of the way nebula after he had become weary of the galaxy, inviting some of his older soldiers to join him. It was on the outermost edge of one of the many spiral arms, and not home to any sentient or non-sentient races. That is what made the appearance of the ships so odd and unwelcome: they were intruding on Nalshanda's exile.

If a few of the aliens were captured, as Nalshanda had ordered, they would be immediately sent to places more central to the Radam Empire. Provided they were first deemed worthy of the struggle inherent in capturing them, and secondly that they survived the process of becoming a Radam warrior. That was what Vasara was here to find out.

Vasara had hidden among the cloud of half-sentient rocks so that a chance sensor sweep would not reveal her to the ships, since the Radam were well known in most quarters of this and many other galaxies. Not giving the rocks any specific orders, Vasara waited to see if the aliens would make their intentions known.

Seventy minutes passed, and another ship appeared, somewhat bigger that the other small ships, but with no other distinguishing features visible to Vasara. Twelve minutes later, another force of ships appeared in exactly the same manner that the first one had.

That was the only way in which the other ships resembled these. The first fleet had been pale in color, the first of these newcomers was the blue-black color of a shadow. And it looked somewhat like a species of insect that Vasara had seen once, on a planet whose name she could no longer remember. The other craft was hard and sharp-edged, like a weapon.

Like one of the twin _charens_ Mishiku carried in battle, but this craft had two crescent-shaped blades instead of just one, one on each side of the haft. The outer edges of the two crescents faced outward, and instead of a two-inch sharpened spike at the top, a small double-ended triangle graced the tip of the shaft.

The insectoid spacecraft launched a fleet of ships, themselves like a smaller swarm. As the black craft launched its own fleet of identical ships, Vasara wondered why any species would want to model their ships after vermin. Deciding she had seen enough, Vasara gave a single simple order to the hoard of living space rock that surrounded her.

__

Attack!

The asteroids surged forward around her as Vasara hung back, watching as the black ship went after the largest of the pale egg-shaped ships. Extending a boarding tube and securing it to the hull of the other craft, the occupants of the black craft, which was obviously a warship, forced their way into the other ship.

After the last of the invaders was aboard, one of the asteroids rammed into the joined craft…

***

The _Jahar_ rocked with the impact of the asteroid, and Elfangor struggled out from under Loren, who had been knocked unconscious by a Dracon blast. Finally managing to free himself, even as Visser Thirty-two stepped fully aboard the _Jahar_, Elfangor tried one last desperate ploy. Aiming the razor-sharp blade of his tail blind and hoping to hit the control console, Elfangor jerked his tail forward.

Visser Thirty-two yanked himself out of the range of Elfangor's tail blade, mistakenly thinking that he was the one Elfangor intended to hit. Luck and fate were both on Elfangor's side, and the tip of his blade hit the trigger for the _Jahar's_ Shredders. Thick pale blue beams lanced from the double-barreled weapon and struck the Blade ship directly amidships, tearing the warship violently in half, but somehow the boarding tube remained attached to the _Jahar's_ hull.

It was only then that Visser Thirty-two noticed something out of place in the hailstorm of rock, something that seemed almost _alive_. Ignoring the still semi-prone Elfangor, Visser Thirty-two stepped up to the command console. It hadn't been just a scanner malfunction, or if it was, it was still showing up on the forward screen.

Focusing in on the strange colorful blip that seemed to be surrounded by at least three of the asteroids, and sometimes as many as five at one time, Visser Thirty-two got a lock with the forward scanner array. Zooming in, Visser Thirty-two blinked sharply. This could not be right, it just couldn't be!

Hovering there in space, with the impossible asteroids acting as a kind of barrier, was a creature who bore such a striking resemblance to his former host that they could only be the same species. There were slight differences of course, but the overall similarities were impossible to overlook. This newcomer had the same blazing red eyes, but instead of the almost-invisible ebony armor that his old host had possessed, this new Navari's armor was predominantly a deep blue.

The arms and legs were two shades of green. And instead of merely a single pair of large horns on the sides of the helmet, this newcomer had two. One smaller pair and one larger, the larger pair above the smaller. And just to further distinguish the two, small upcurved spikes graced the newcomer's back and upper-arms.

The spikes were colored according to where they were; those on the back were deep blue, and those on the arms were light green. Visser Thirty-two wondered why the living asteroids, which had attacked both Yeerk and Andalite fleets indiscriminately, were evidently ignoring the Navari completely.

What is _that_?! Alloran demanded.

Nothing for you to concern yourself about, slave.

Another asteroid slammed into the _Jahar_, and the boarding tube tore loose from the hull, sucking the atmosphere out into space. Almost everything else inside went with the violent rush of air. The prone Hork-Bajir was blown outside, and Visser Thirty-two was knocked off his feet.

Chapman and Loren both slid toward the still-open hatch. But the hatch was only now sliding shut, clicking softly as it locked.

You're a real source of agitation, Elfangor, Visser Thirty-two raged, forgetting for a moment the Navari within the asteroid storm. Now, die!

Visser Thirty-two aimed his Dracon beam at Elfangor, but another asteroid slammed into the _Jahar_ before he fired, throwing off his aim. The effort of firing cost a lot of his body's remaining oxygen, and when a third asteroid rammed the _Jahar_, it took a supreme amount of willpower just to stay conscious while he was tossed about.

The asteroids had dispatched most of the Andalite fighters, and most of the Yeerk Bug fighters had been destroyed by them as well. As the _Jahar_ spun unpowered through space, Visser Thirty-two saw a flash of the Navari amid the tumbling rocks and half-destroyed ships. And, much closer, one of the asteroids hurtling straight toward them…


	37. The trouble with Black Holes

There wasn't much of a bang, as there was almost no atmosphere inside the ship to transmit sound. But there was the feeling of an impact, albeit a slight one with the lack of gravity. Through the _Jahar's_ forward screen, Visser Thirty-two and Elfangor both saw one of the living asteroids slowly, inevitably, growing over the ship.

Then, something much worse came into view: a stellar-mass black hole. A point of infinite density and gravitational force, was drawing the _Jahar_ into its accretion disk. Alloran was strangely complacent about this, almost seeming to enjoy the fact that they would all soon be stretched thinner than a piece of conduit hose.

Looking through what was left of the forward screen, Visser Thirty-two saw the Navari turn and leave. His host's vision was beginning to grow dim from lack of oxygen, but he was almost sure he could see the remaining asteroids following closely behind.

***

Vasara turned away from the unknown craft, as there had been no worthy aliens aboard any of the ships. None that even came close to meeting the standards of the Radam. She knew that Nalshanda would not be altogether pleased with this development, but she also knew that Shivaru would stand with her.

The silver-haired Teknoman was someone she could trust implicitly, he was almost like a brother to her, even though they were not of the same species. The few remaining bioengineered asteroids followed Vasara as she left the destroyed ships and dying aliens behind. They coasted to a stop just outside the west airlock, while Vasara herself didn't even slow down until she was well inside the station.

Standing by the console she had activated were Shivaru, and Nalshanda himself. The powerful Tekno-Warlord had his arms crossed, and his long red wings were elegantly folded behind his back. He and Shivaru had obviously been talking, most likely Shivaru had been reporting on the status of the mission.

Nalshanda's eyes finally settled on Vasara, and he waved her over.

"I take it the mission did not go as planned?" Nalshanda said, noting the tentative way Vasara looked from him to Shivaru.

"There were-"

Nalshanda held up a hand, silencing Vasara in midsentance. Half closing his crimson eyes, he made it very clear what he wanted to do. Lowering her mental barriers, she let Nalshanda enter her mind.

"So, the Yeerks were in our territory," Nalshanda mused, speaking mostly to himself.

"Sir?" Vasara inquired, thinking she was being addressed.

"It is nothing for you to concern yourself about, Vasara. You may return to sleep if you wish," Nalshanda muttered, signaling that he wished to be left alone.

__

Sir, are we to keep this to ourselves? Shivaru asked, as Nalshanda started to walk away.

Turning back to his to loyal soldiers, Nalshanda simply nodded before he turned away and strode off down one of the eastern corridors.

__

Vasara, one last point of interest, Nalshanda stated.

__

Yes, sir?

That black ship you saw, did you sense anything, anyone_ I should say, did you sense any of our kind aboard?_

Only one, sir. And it was dormant.

In hibernation?

Yes, sir.

That will be all, Vasara.

Nalshanda nodded once, gratified to know that the insolent little warrior Darkblade had at least taken his orders this time. He sensed Vasara climbing back into her teknopod, and Shivaru returning to his meditation. Nalshanda continued walking until he had reached his own teknopod, it had regenerated after bursting open to release him.

As they all did.

***

The lack of oxygen was swiftly becoming unbearable, and Elfangor knew he had to do something about it. For Loren's sake if not his own. But there was another part of his mind that disagreed, one that saw no point in prolonging his struggle for another second.

As Elfangor's conscious mind faded slowly into oblivion, a strange feeling of peace settled over him even as he stared into the gaping maw of the black hole. Why should he keep fighting? What had he ever done right?

It was pointless to ask what he had done wrong; there were too many things to name. Too many things that he did not want to remember, and too many that he would never forget. He was a failure, pure and simple.

And it was so easy to let go, to just drift along in a ship without artificial gravity and await the inevitable. No one would even have to lay him to rest, the black hole would take care of that as well. Yes, it was easy.

Elfangor remembered something then, something that one of his instructors had told him a long time ago. She had been his philosophy instructor, since all warriors were now expected to know at least some philosophy. _It is not always easy to do what is right. And it is not always right to do what is easy._

Elfangor had asked her what she meant at the time, and she had said he would have to find that out for himself. Loren's body bumped softly into his, and he stared at her for a moment, thinking. It _was_ easy to give up and just let them all die. But now Elfangor knew what Shalwen-Corrith-Darana had meant when she had said those words.

Elfangor watched as Visser Thirty-two crashed gently into the ceiling and started drifting slowly to the floor again. It was kind of funny to watch such a powerful Yeerk get tangled in his host's own tail. Both himself and the Visser were swooning from lack of oxygen, and the humans Loren and Chapman were already unconscious.

He could not let Loren die just because he was feeling sorry for himself. Kicking off the floor at just the right angle, he just managed to grab the manual release for the _Jahar's_ emergency air supply. But the handle slipped from his nerveless fingers, and he started to drift away from the console.


	38. Using the Matrix

He was understandably shocked when a human hand shoved him back the way he had come. This time though, Elfangor managed to cling to the manual release handle. Twisting it until the valve locked open, then he was forced to let go. He could only barely hear the soft hiss of rushing air as it came back into the ship.

Turning his stalk eyes, he was even more surprised to see Loren had managed to regain consciousness in the airless _Jahar_. Smiling weakly at Elfangor, Loren winked. Elfangor tried to breathe, but there was nothing there yet. He tried again, and this time he managed to catch just the slightest wisp of oxygen.

Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!!

His lungs ached as they drew in oxygen for the first time in uncounted minutes. It was the sweetest pain he had ever experienced. Judging from the expression on Loren's face, she felt the same way.

Are you all right? Elfangor asked her.

"I thought we were done for," Loren said, smiling with relief.

Done for? Oh, dead. Yes, we almost were. But you humans don't give up easily do you?

"Neither do you Andalites. So, what's next?"

Elfangor looked around, seeing Visser Thirty-two regain consciousness after having passed out for awhile. He could care less about Chapman, the traitor of a human.

We have air, but no power. Those asteroids drained the entire main power supply. And what's worse is that we're drifting toward a black hole.

"Now _that's_ not good."

If we fall into that black hole every atom in our bodies, as well as those in the ship, will be stretched thinner than a strand of hair.

"Yeah, we learned about that in school. Its called 'spaghettification'."

Elfangor was surprised that humans even knew about that, much less had a name for the process. Visser Thirty-two spoke up for the first time in an hour.

There is just one way out, Andalite.

Elfangor glared at the Visser, hatred burning in his eyes. All four of them. His tail twitched, eager to slice the Andalite-Controller into bite-sized chunks.

Don't be a fool Elfangor. What would you gain from killing me? Besides short-lived satisfaction?

That is a good enough reason for me.

Loren glared hatefully at Visser Thirty-two, she more than agreed with Elfangor. The Visser shook his head, slightly amused at their stubbornness.

There would be no point, Elfangor. Even if you did kill me, which I honestly doubt that you could, you and your little human pet would still perish in the black hole.

"You have a point, Slug-boy?" Loren demanded.

Yes, I think we would all like to be spared your inane babble, Elfangor spat acidly.

You blame me for all your failures? Visser Thirty-two said with a laugh. I'm not the one who left his best friend back on the Taxxon planet, a _nothlit_ in that disgusting worm body. Neither was I the one who disobeyed a direct order, and it was not _my_ fault that you were too naïve to see through a simple ruse.

Elfangor's main eyes narrowed, hating the Visser's words all the more because they were true.

Do you have anything worthwhile to say? Elfangor snapped.

If you want to survive, we will have to work together. And we will have to do it fast.

To what end?

Why the Time Matrix, of course.

Elfangor laughed derisively.

In case you didn't notice, the Time Matrix was on the outside of the ship. The _outside._ It was held in place by energy ropes, without power those are gone. It's most likely drifted out into space by now.

I would not be so sure of that. There should be just enough gravitational attraction between this ship and the Time Matrix to keep it close by.

Elfangor thought that over, it was true. The _Jahar_ had more mass than the Time Matrix. And in the weightless environment of interstellar space, the _Jahar_ would possess the greater amount of gravity.

How do you propose we get to it, Visser?

How do you _think_ we would get to it, Andalite? Visser Thirty-two sneered.

"Just tell him, Slug-boy," Loren snapped.

Silence, human, Visser Thirty-two snapped back. One of us will have to be reeled outside on a rope or a cable. Someone will have to be holding that rope, and someone else will have to be on the other end. That someone will have to find the Time Matrix and bring it back inside the ship.

And then what? If you were to preoccupied to realize this, all of our remaining atmosphere would rush out the open hatch like it did last time. Our forcefield is completely gone.

I'm aware of that, Andalite. It will be a do-or-die situation, but we can use the emergency air hoods for five minutes.

"Air hoods?"

What air hoods?

Have you forgotten so soon that I have both Alloran's body and mind at my disposal? This is still his ship, and I know everything he knows about it. He has a supply of air hoods for just this kind of occasion.

"Wow, he must've been clairvoyant to plan for this," Loren joked.

Visser Thirty-two, having learned the definition of that particular word from his Navari host, snapped at her.

Not this _exact_ situation, you stupid human.

Do not call her that, Elfangor spoke up quickly. Taking a breath, he continued. I will work with you. But I have one condition: I will be the one on the end of the rope searching for the Time Matrix.

Visser Thirty-two laughed harshly. And when you find it, what then? Do you expect me to believe that you are just going to carry it back into the ship for one of your species' worse enemies, someone you personally despise, to use?

Yes, Elfangor said simply.

Visser Thirty-two snorted. I do not believe you. Once you find the Time Matrix, you will activate it and vanish back to your homeworld. Leaving me to die in the grip of the black hole.

I will not leave Loren- I mean the humans, behind. You have Alloran's mind at your disposal, as you said, search it. He knows me.

Visser Thirty-two half-closed his main eyes, doing just that. It took some time, but he soon found what he was looking for. It was a bit unexpected to him, but Alloran believed it was true.

Well now, this is interesting. Alloran thinks you have some _feelings_ for this pathetic human female.

She is _not_ pathetic.

So it _is_ true?

Elfangor fell silent, turning away from the Visser. A little embarrassed that his feelings could be read so easily.

Well, I have my answer, Visser Thirty-two said with silky satisfaction.

Just get the air hoods, Elfangor muttered, still averting his eyes from the Visser.

Very well, Visser Thirty-two purred.

Pushing off the wall closest to him, the Visser was able to slowly make his way to the back of the cockpit where the emergency supplies were stored. Opening the small storage cabinet, he took out four of the small plastic bags. That was essentially what an air hood was: a head-sized plastic bag that tied at the neck.

There was also a small bottle of oxygen, very small in the case of these particular hoods, which were not intended to be used in this kind of extreme emergency. The oxygen in the bottles was not pure, but was instead a mix of gasses that would keep a living organism from depressurizing in the vacuum of space. Once he had them, Visser Thirty-two made his way back to where Loren and Elfangor were waiting.

We will need a rope, Elfangor said.

We can use the wires in the control console for that, the Visser said offhandedly.

"And how are we going to get to them? We're all kind of up in the air here."

We could reroute the remaining emergency power to the artificial gravity, it would only provide enough power for ten minutes, though. However, it is the only way we will be able to work with the cable before we are within the black hole's event horizon.

All right, do it. But make it quick.

Visser Thirty-two shook his head, annoyed at Elfangor's constant badgering. But not so much that he would risk his own life just for spite. Making his way along the wall toward the control console, he gave Elfangor a harsh shove, causing him to float away from his purchase on one of the handles.

Loren was too far away to do anything but glare at the Andalite-Controller. Which was just the way Visser Thirty-two liked it. The Visser went to work on the console, using Alloran's knowledge of his ship's systems to reroute the emergency power to the artificial gravity generator.

Once he was all but finished, Visser Thirty-two considered warning Loren and Elfangor that the gravity would be coming back on. But he decided against it, it would be more interesting to see how they reacted without that information. Pressing the sequence of buttons and switches that would complete the codes and initiate the reroute, Visser Thirty-two braced himself.

The gravity came on almost instantly after he'd finished, and everything came abruptly crashing back to the floor. Including Loren and Elfangor. The human female was glaring at him again, and the Visser could not have cared less.

"You could have warned us about that, Slug-boy!"

Quiet, human. We have work to do, and not very much time to do it in.

Elfangor scowled, Loren sneered, but they quickly got to work tearing apart the control console. Once the outer casing had been stripped away, mostly thanks to Elfangor's tail, they went to work on the wires. Loren's hands were more adept at this kind of work, it seemed.

She was twisting the wires she had ripped from the remains of the console into a strong rope, weaving them together in a way that neither Andalite nor Andalite-Controller had seen done before. The construction looked sound, and Loren would check its strength often by pulling on the section she was working with.

Thank you, Loren, Elfangor said.

"No problem," Loren said, grinning at him from her place on his right.

It has been four minutes, human. Are you finished yet? the Visser asked.

"Shut up, Slug-boy," Loren said, not taking her eyes off her work.

Soon she had made a line that was long enough to reach all the way around the _Jahar_, and one that would be strong enough not to be broken by Elfangor's mass. And just in time too. The small part of the control console that had remained untouched gave a soft, almost unnoticeable beep, and everything started floating again.

Is it done? Visser Thirty-two inquired.

"Yeah, it is. And just in the nick of time too."

What do nicks have to do with time? Elfangor wondered.

"It's just a figure of speech, Elfangor."

What does it mean?

We haven't the time for this, Visser Thirty-two reminded them. Unless the both of you would _like_ to die in the black hole.

"I'll tell you later," Loren promised, kissing Elfangor on the cheek.

Are you ready, Andalite?

I am as ready as you are, Yeerk. You just worry about yourself.

Visser Thirty-two chuckled coldly. Alloran is so right about you, Elfangor. You are a moralizing, naïve, arrogant, weak-willed young fool.

Elfangor ignored that with some effort, turning back to Loren.

As you might have already guessed, we're going to open the hatch again. The air will rush out just like last time. Will you hold on to Chapman? We don't want him getting sucked out of the ship.

"We don't?" Loren asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elfangor gave her a blank look, not sure whether she was being serious or not.

"It's called sarcasm, Elfangor," Loren clarified. "It's a type of humor. Despite the fact that I would like nothing better than to beat him over the head with a large, blunt object, I'm not going to let him get sucked out into space."

Elfangor smiled with his eyes, then tied the woven cable around his tail. Taking a last, deep breath of cabin air, he pulled the air hood over his head and tied it at his neck. Activating the oxygen bottle and signaling to Visser Thirty-two, Elfangor watched the hatch open for the second time.

Since there was no one on the other side to tamper with the mechanism's normal operation, the _Jahar_'s hatch opened at it's own sluggish pace. The escaping oxygen made a sound like that of rushing wind, and then there was only the silence. And the frigid, icy cold that was like nothing any planet could ever produce.

Already shivering, Elfangor grabbed the edge of the opening, staring into the endless abyss of outer space. He could see clearly the swirling gas and dust of the black hole's accretion disk, and with the cable secured around his tail, he stepped out of the ship. At the outer edge of the disk, he caught sight of a mid-sized yellow star being slowly drawn into the hole.

He sincerely hoped that star had not had inhabited planets in orbit, he hoped that no species – sentient or not – had been torn apart atom by atom by the black hole's gravitational force. Turning back to his task, Elfangor tried not to feel the freezing cold. The swirling stars above, below, and around him distracted him from it for a few moments, and he was thankful for it.

Focus, Elfangor. Worry about the black hole if you fail, and not before, Elfangor reminded himself.

Looking around the _Jahar_, he set about searching for the Time Matrix. The spinning of the ship slightly disoriented him, but he pushed that feeling aside. Moving alongside the _Jahar_, Elfangor looked for the Time Matrix. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only eleven minutes in reality, he found it.

I see it! It is wedged in place by the engine pylons. I am going after it.

It was next to impossible for any non-Radam – Tekkamen excluded – to move in zero gravity, but there were ways that this could be done. Elfangor had been trained in some of them, now he would put that training to good use. Tugging softly on the cable attached to his tail, he moved toward the hull.

Tapping his forehooves against the hull, Elfangor halted his forward motion. The Time Matrix was right in front of him, nestled right between two of the three pylons like someone had placed it there for his convenience. Smiling inwardly, Elfangor moved closer to the ten-foot sphere.

Reaching out a hand, Elfangor laid it on the Time Matrix. Impossible as it seemed, the Matrix actually felt _alive_, causing warmth to spread slowly up his arm. Placing his other hand on the Matrix, he felt his frozen hands and fingers start to thaw. Realizing that he didn't have much time, Elfangor considered his next move.

__

Now then, how do I move you back to the hatch?

That would be a possible problem, one Elfangor was not sure he could solve with his limited amount of time. Turning his stalk-eyes backward to stare at the woven cable trailing from his tail, Elfangor knew what he had to do. Pulling his tail forward so that he could wrap his hands around it, he untied the cable.

He had only three minutes of oxygen left, less if he did anything to strain himself, so he would have to do this quickly. Taking up the slack, Elfangor had just enough to make a rudimentary sling. It would have broken almost instantly in normal gravity, but that was one advantage of zero-g.

Finally securing the sling, Elfangor checked it over one last time, before calling back to Visser Thirty-two aboard the _Jahar_.

Okay. Pull!

Slowly, ever so slowly at first, the Time Matrix was reeled toward the open hatch. Elfangor was clinging tightly to the cable, but in his weightless state he was no burden to the Visser. At that moment Elfangor almost didn't care that his supply of oxygen was nearly gone, or even that there was no way for him to get more after his hood ran out.

He was too absorbed in the euphoria of a job well done. _It's going to work. It's going to work, we are going to use the Time Matrix. And we are going to survive._ It was a good feeling, knowing that he had saved his own life. _And of course, it doesn't hurt that Loren's life will also be saved by my actions._

As the last of the cable was reeled into the _Jahar_, Elfangor caught the first glimpse of Loren he'd had in a long while, or what felt to him like one. She had not done as well as he had in the airless ship, since the air hoods were made specifically for Andalites. Loren was suffering from slow depressurization, but she still managed a weak, sickly smile for Elfangor.

Forgetting about Visser Thirty-two for a moment, Elfangor kicked off the wall and slowly drifted towards her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave her his brightest smile, putting all the confidence he felt into the expression. Loren's own smile grew wider just looking at him, and Visser Thirty-two chose that moment to cut in.

If you two are finished, he began acidly.

Tapping Elfangor on the shoulder, Loren mouthed something to him. Elfangor chuckled, despite the fact that she had made no sound, the meaning of her words was quite clear to him.

Loren wants me to relay a message to you, Visser. She says, "Shut up, Slug-boy."


	39. The Miniverse

Shaking that off, Visser Thirty-two tried a more diplomatic approach.

Well done, Andalite. We have thirty seconds left to activate this thing.

Elfangor switched gears in half a second, knowing instinctively what the Visser meant to do.

Go ahead, Yeerk, Elfangor snarled. Make your move.

Visser Thirty-two's eyes narrowed into vicious slits, and Elfangor knew he had read him right. One swift slash from Alloran's tail, and Elfangor would have been dead, or close enough that it would make no difference. But now they both knew it, and neither one knew which of them would win such a confrontation.

__

How does one turn this thing on? Elfangor mused, looking it over closely._ There's no visible instrumentation. It has to use a direct mind-link through a physical interface._

Loren was trying to say something but since Elfangor was not looking directly at her, it was impossible to know what that was. She was even worse off then she had been the last time he had seen her. Her lips had changed color, till they would have almost matched his fur.

Elfangor didn't know if that was good or bad, but Loren seemed to be in pain and so Elfangor decided that it had to be the latter. The only way to save Loren, though, was to use the Time Matrix. And that meant he would have to cooperate with Visser Thirty-two, and that meant that he would have to solve the mystery of the Time Matrix.

Finally, it hit him. If there were no visible control panels, then that would imply that the Matrix was made to respond to something simple. But what?

Out of nowhere, the answer came to him. Touch, he said, not knowing where the words had come from. The Matrix responds to touch. I think if we want to, we can form a mental link simply by establishing physical contact. That should allow us to program it.

Before Elfangor had even finished speaking, Visser Thirty-two had lunged forward. Elfangor tensed, but the Visser was not moving to attack, instead he pressed his hands against the smooth surface of the Time Matrix. His intent was to establish physical and mental contact before either Elfangor or the human Loren.

His destination: the Yeerk home planet. Both Loren and Elfangor would be easily taken there, surrounded by his brother and sister Yeerks. Elfangor saw this, fortunately for both himself and Loren, and quickly pressed his own hands against the other side of the Time Matrix.

As he concentrated, seeking a way to link his thoughts to the programming mechanism of the Time Matrix, something utterly impossible happened. As they watched, awed and more than a bit overwhelmed, the entire three-dimensional universe split into thousands upon thousands of fragments. But that wasn't half of it, not even close.

Every fragment was connected to every other in ways not even the oldest Tekka- or Teknoman would have been able to make sense of. Nothing was untouched by the change, not even the relatively simple _Jahar_.

The _Jahar_ had been twisted inside out, and any other way imaginable. Every part of the ship could be seen from every other. Any place the _Jahar_ had ever been, no matter how remote in time or space, could be seen connected to the _Jahar_ by a long strand of colorless light. But not only were the many past destinations of the _Jahar_ connected to it by the strands of light, they were also quite visible from the cockpit.

But the spectacle of the _Jahar_ was nothing compared to that of her crew. Visser Thirty-two, Loren, Elfangor and even Chapman were twisted and split apart in just the same ways, but the results were much more interesting. Every part of every organ was made visible from every possible vantagepoint, Elfangor could see Loren's beating heart from the inside as well as the outside.

Visser Thirty-two watched as Elfangor's lungs expanded and contracted, and could see his own doing the same. Nothing was hidden in this strange place. Looking upward, Elfangor could see an expanse of colored, glowing lines stretching away into an optical infinity.

Somehow, he could also sense who these lines belonged to. The sickly-yellow line that was Visser Thirty-two twisted around a pale-blue line that couldn't be anyone other than Alloran. But there was another line that followed the merged lines of Alloran and Visser Thirty-two, this one was the ebony shade of interstellar space and followed the Yeerk's line without ever getting close enough to merge.

Looking down, Elfangor found that his previous assumption had been incorrect. The Visser's line and the black line _did_ merge, if only for a short time. But the black line did not immediately start to follow the Visser's line, instead it journeyed halfway across the galaxy to meet up with a dark purple line.

It stayed close to the purple line for a few minutes amid a tangle of similarly colored lines, then the black line briefly twined around a lavender-blue line before departing to follow Visser Thirty-two. Turning away from the wandering black line, Elfangor traced Alloran's pale-blue line as it threaded its way through the maze of other lines. He saw as his own line, that of his friend Arbron, and Alloran's lines converged, taking the two humans with them.

He could also see Alloran's past, not only as a collection of intersecting lines, but as an actual progression of events. Elfangor saw what had happened on the Hork-Bajir planet, saw the high rocky plateaus the Andalite forces on the planet were forced to stay in to avoid the Yeerks that were in control of most of the planet. Then the scene skipped forward, and Elfangor saw the same rocky plateaus heaped with slaughtered Andalites and Hork-Bajir.

A Blade ship was flying through the canyon bordered by the plateaus, firing at the fleeing Andalites and Hork-Bajir. Elfangor was certain that this Blade ship belonged to Visser Thirty-two. He could _see_ Alloran's desperate decision to release the Quantum virus, even as he knew that Alloran knew that this action would make him an outcast among his own kind.

And, as even that last desperate measure failed, Elfangor could feel Alloran's rage as what remained of the Andalites sent to the planet retreated and the last free Hork-Bajir were enslaved by the Yeerks. As his eyes were drawn back to the black line, Elfangor wondered who it could belong to. Looking at the point just before they merged, Elfangor was surprised to see a black-haired human being held by two Hork-Bajir.

But, when the human raised his head, Elfangor caught sight of his blazing red eyes. Staring into their depths, Elfangor could feel an evil and a power even more potent than that of Visser Thirty-two. What Visser Thirty-two saw was just the same, and yet very different.

***

Through Alloran's eyes, Visser Thirty-two a montage of scenes all focused around his old host. In the first, his former host was walking beside another of his species. Then, he was glaring at a wiry female with bright green hair and light brown stripes.

In the next, he had been thrown across the expanse of room whose walls, ceiling and floor all appeared to be made from some sort of black-green vines. In fact, all of the Visser's glimpses of his previous host took place in this particular environment. Alloran could see everything that the Visser saw, since Visser Thirty-two was too preoccupied with what was happening in front of his eyes to bother with monitoring Alloran's thoughts.

Alloran, at the same time, was not about to jeopardize his newfound and probably short-lived freedom by commenting on or questioning the presence of the black-haired human. Visser Thirty-two willed the images to disappear, and stared for a moment at the wandering black line. Focusing all his willpower on the unassuming white sphere before him, he pictured his intended destination.

The details were mostly secondhand, since he hadn't been born on the planet that he now intended to go, but he had been told many times about how it looked. He could call to mind in vivid detail the green lightning-streaked skies of the planet, the masses of worn rocks and the many Yeerk pools. As the images became clearer, he could feel the Time Matrix responding to his thoughts.

Elfangor felt this as well, and he moved quickly to halt the Yeerk's progress. In the strange place that they now inhabited, Elfangor could see his own mind as it brought more and yet more mental energy to bear. He tried to bring the same kind of focus to his thoughts that the Visser had displayed, but for him it was a futile effort.

His thoughts were not the ordered images that he saw in Visser Thirty-two's thoughts, but a jumble of combined pictures. Not all of them concrete memories of a place, some of them were memories of the magazine ads he had paged through while in the hold of a downed Skrit-Na freighter. And, as hard as he tried, he could not push back the Visser's own mind.

Even as Elfangor attempted to gain more ground in his mental war, he was watching his own body freeze. He could see the blood in his veins slowing to a crawl, as his hearts gave out from lack of oxygen. Another mind joined his struggle, just as his own was shutting down from both asphyxiation and cold.

It was Loren, there could be no doubting that, he knew she would help him no matter what he was facing. She pushed the Visser back with her strong mental presence, but did not contribute to the tide of images flowing between Yeerk and Andalite. Elfangor could now feel the balance shifting to favor him.

Suddenly, Elfangor noticed that their surroundings had changed drastically. Everything, the black hole, the _Jahar_, even the outside universe was all moving away at an increasing rate of speed. He knew that they had succeeded then, they had chosen their destination, and now the Time Matrix was taking them there.

But none of their pictures had been whole, save for the Visser's, so where would the Time Matrix take them? The cosmos, which had grown considerably farther away since Elfangor had last looked, was now fading from sight. Just before he lost consciousness, he was sure he could hear someone's laughter, and then all he saw was a flash of brilliant light.

Then the darkness of his mind engulfed him…


	40. Warped Reflection

Elfangor could still hear that laughter throughout his mind when he came to. Looking around, he was surprised to find that he recognized the place where he now stood. He knew this place in his bones, it was his family's scoop.

Home? Is this- Am I home?

He did some exploring, and the farther he went, the more he believed that he was home. Then, he saw something that reassured him all over again. It was his _Garibah_, one of the oldest trees in the forest that surrounded his scoop. An ancient _therant_ tree called _Hala Fala_.

I really made it. I'm home, Elfangor mumbled, still in a mild state of shock.

Shaking himself, Elfangor walked over to touch _Hala Fala's_ smooth bark. He could feel the mind of the tree comforting him with its simple presence, calming his racing thoughts until he could think clearly.

I'm home, Elfangor whispered again, and somehow telling _Hala Fala_ made it that much more real.

He had been holding off his reaction until now, but now his composure collapsed. Leaning his head against the trunk of the tree, Elfangor began to cry softly in the only way any Andalite could. He poured out all of his horrible experiences to the tree, all the bad decisions that he'd made and the many failures that were his alone.

He could feel the tree responding, and some of the overwhelming despair began to lighten, falling away like so many dead leaves. It could never forgive him for what he had done, of course, but it heard his words. And just to be heard was a luxury Elfangor hadn't had lately.

Finally, Elfangor stopped sobbing, feeling better than he had since this entire miserable day had begun. Had it only been a day since he had exited Zero-space with the humans Loren and Chapman? He checked his internal clock and found that it was.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Elfangor tried to figure out his next course of action. He knew that he had utilized the Time Matrix to travel through space, but had he also traveled through time? It was possible, since _Hala Fala_ had been living for seven thousand years.

But, if that was so, then _when_ in that span of time had he arrived? He could clearly recall the mental battle with Visser Thirty-two, so he must have won, he must have turned the Time Matrix to his own use. But, had Loren and the Visser arrived here as well?

They must have, and he had to find them. Loren came first though, since she could aid him locating the Visser.

***

Visser Thirty-two himself awoke in much the same situation, but in a very different place. The familiar landscape of his native planet surrounded him and as he took it all in, he heard a very familiar voice.

"So, _this_ is where your kind comes from. It certainly explains a lot, I'll admit that much," sneered the voice.

It was not coming from directly behind him, that voice, for the owner of the voice would have probably found that too simple for his taste. Twisting his left stalk-eye, he saw the one creature he knew would be there. And indeed there he was, lounging in one of the _kanth_ plants no less.

His loose black clothing and ebony boots were just as Visser Thirty-two remembered them. The smug, utterly condescending smirk was firmly in place, and the burning red eyes regarded him with a lazy defiance. Almost daring him to say something.

It was a challenge he readily accepted.

You came back? Visser Thirty-two asked, still not quite believing his eyes.

"Not for you," the other shot back.

Even though he had turned so that he was now staring into the eyes of this apparition from his past, he could no more convince himself that the other was real then he could shake the feeling of _wrongness_ about this place. It was as if he had not come home at all. But how could that be true?

He had felt Elfangor's mind faltering as the extremely low temperature slowly killed his body. It was then that the remembered Loren, the human who had been trying to hold him back. She had tried to keep him off balance, to stop him from using the Time Matrix for his own ends.

But she had failed, had she not? The Visser watched as the black-clad form of his old host turned and strode away, fading into invisibility before he had taken even two steps.

Wait!

__

Why should I? the other scoffed, not seeming particularly interested in an answer.

And Visser Thirty-two was not sure he would even _have_ an answer. Alloran had been silent throughout the entire exchange, but now offered his unwanted opinion.

That was the human we saw when you made contact with the Time Matrix.

He is not a human, you stupid slave. He is a Navari. And if he were to hear you calling him that, he would have killed both of us, Visser Thirty-two hissed.

He gave the impression that he hated you even more than I did. Until now, I would have thought that was impossible, Alloran sneered.

Shut up!

Alloran fell silent, but there was an air of smug satisfaction about him even then. Visser Thirty-two hated that, but he had other more pressing matters to attend to. Such as finding out if this was in reality his homeworld, or if this was all just an illusion created somehow by the Time Matrix.

The Visser didn't know if the Matrix was capable of such things, he had thought that it was only meant to transport someone from one spacetime location to another. But he suspected that it had never been used by more than one person at a single time, and had also never been forced to deal with contradictory instructions.

Visser Thirty-two decided to explore, since it was clear he was not going to find any answers by mere speculation. Choosing a direction, the same that his former host had set off in, the Visser followed the shallow footsteps left in the dust. All the time wondering what he would find.


	41. The Searcher

As Elfangor walked across the lush grass of his planet, he grew ever more certain that he had come home. Everything here was familiar to him. From the graceful _kafit_ bird that flew overhead, to the tiny _hoobers_ that bounced across his path on their springy tendrils and stared at him with their funny bulging eyes.

Elfangor had asked his father if he could have one of his own once. His father had said that _hoobers_ as well as _kafits_, _dereas_, and the large heavily furred _mereals_ belonged to all Andalites. It was something that Elfangor had always tried to remember. It was right about then that Elfangor spotted the stream.

The oh-so-familiar stream. But, if the stream was here, running its well-known course, then did that mean…? Elfangor raised his main eyes, even as his stalk eyes kept up their constant surveillance. He blinked twice, but the sight did not change in the slightest.

It was the small rise of a hill he liked to climb, but more important than that was what lay on the other side of that rise. If he climbed to the top, as he was wont to do on the few occasions that he was allowed to go home now that he was in the military, Elfangor was sure that he would see the well-loved landscape of his home.

Taking a deep breath, Elfangor raced up the side of the slope and leapt across the stream. Sure enough, there was his family's scoop, right in front of his eyes. He _was_ home. The mere thought was enough to make all of his other concerns seem trivial.

Elfangor ran over slopes that he had known all his life, gentle curves that were as familiar as his own name. Finally reaching the crest of the low hill, Elfangor stared out over the oval scoop where he and his parents lived. Elfangor could almost feel the grass of the scoop under his hooves, and he couldn't wait to see both his parents and his childhood toys again.

Then he caught sight of something he had never seen before, something that could not possibly belong in the place where it now stood. Everything in the scoop was as it should be, the cultivated grass and flowers were all there. As was the blue awning that covered the southern quadrant of the scoop and kept their possessions out of the rain.

But there, just beyond the western side of the scoop, was a tall crashing waterfall. A waterfall that simply fell hundreds of feet, from a cliff that jutted abruptly out of the grass. It was a magnificent sight to be sure, but it violated every known law of physics.

Elfangor felt his hearts lurch, and for a moment upon spotting the falls his lungs just stopped working. Once he could breathe again, Elfangor stared around and the landscape of this surreal place. One that looked so much like his own planet, but could not be anywhere in the real universe.

The first thing Elfangor looked to, however, was the sky. What he saw there was beyond impossible: the sky had been divided into patches of three separate colors. With three differing patterns to further distinguish them.

The first was the bright red and gold of the sky on his home planet. The second was a strange, but no less beautiful, pale blue with drifting white clouds. The third and definitely the strangest, was a sickly green color and torn by frequent bolts of jagged lightning.

What have we done? Elfangor whispered, awed and frightened at the same time.

***

Visser Thirty-two found himself in a meadow, one that could not ever have originated on his planet. Grass in a blue-green color spread all over the ground. And trees with needles, as well as those with leaves, bordered the area.

The trees were all varying shades of green themselves, not at all like those on Alloran's planet. But this was not the Yeerk homeworld either. It seemed to take aspects of the Andalite world and change them subtly, creating an entirely new place out of these strange but familiar elements.

__

Who could have done this? The Visser wondered, being very careful to shield his thoughts from Alloran. Then he remembered the human female, Loren. Could she be responsible for this lush meadow, so much like those on the Andalite homeworld?

A flash of black caught his attention, distracting him from his mental pursuits. His former host was leaning against the rough pale brown trunk of one of the needled trees, arms flat against the cracked surface. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to fit in perfectly with this strange environment.

A soft breeze tugged gently at his black hair. The Visser thought at first that he had gone unnoticed, until the boy's crimson eyes snapped open and fixed him with a piercing stare. Fading back into invisibility after giving the Visser a murderous glare, the last that Visser Thirty-two saw of him were his footsteps in the grass.

Looking at the meadow surrounding him, Visser Thirty-two became increasingly certain that Loren had created this landscape. It did not fit with any of Alloran's memories. And it was definitely not a place that could exist on his homeworld.

***

Elfangor walked towards the waterfall, intending to start his search from there. It was a logical choice, since it was the largest landmark visible. Elfangor set off at a steady trot, arriving at a halfway point between the hill and the falls, when he decided to explore this strange environment more thoroughly before endeavoring to find Loren.

Turning away from the falls, Elfangor hung a sharp left, taking himself farther and further from the cascading water. As far as he could see, this place was devoid of sentient creatures. And Elfangor also saw that his previous observation had not even covered less than half of the terrain on this extremely odd planet.

When Elfangor came to a wide grassland, one that he had known for most of his life, he realized that "odd" was not a strong enough word to describe what he was seeing. Not strong enough by worlds. The grassland was inherently familiar to him, but it had been bisected directly through the center.

On the right, the side that Elfangor now stood on, were the normal grasses, flowers and trees of his planet. On the left was a hostile and unfamiliar landscape. A barren, desolate wasteland with plants that barely merited the name.

The green sky, split by harsh lightning at random intervals, was the sole atmosphere in this place. Could this be Earth, the planet Loren was from? Coming closer to the boundary of Andalite lands, repulsed and a bit fascinated both at once, Elfangor looked closer at the blasted land.

Normally, Elfangor shied away from using emotive words to describe a planet. But there was no other way to capture the essence of the place. It was, to put it plainly, hideous.

Skirting the boundary, Elfangor decided not to risk venturing in. Then, out of one of the holes, a creature – or a plant – shot up into the air and stood perfectly vertical for just a moment. It was a dark – almost black red – and resembled a Taxxon tongue in everything but its sheer size.

Farther away from Elfangor's vantagepoint, another of the plant/creatures slid out of its hole with a wet scooping sound. Elfangor spotted the oddest thing then, it was an animal, or so it seemed to be. But not like any that Elfangor had ever seen on any of the planets he had been to. It was a quadruped, that much was normal, the legs were quite a bit thicker than those of any other alien he had seen before though.

But, the strangest thing about this creature was that it did not possess a head. None at all, as far as Elfangor could see, it just possessed an abnormally thick neck and a pair of broad shoulders. It passed directly in front of the plant/creature, and was snared by its hind legs in less time than it took Elfangor to blink.

It let out a pitiful moan, though Elfangor wasn't sure how it managed that feat with no head, as the plant/creature dragged to back to its hole. However, the animal was far too large for the plant/creature to pull into the hole. So, the latter just held the animal prisoner as the former continued to moan.

__

What is this awful place? Elfangor wondered. But even as Elfangor thought that, he was starting to suspect he knew the answer. Elfangor's epiphany came when he recognized one of the "ponds" as a Yeerk pool. Elfangor had only once seen holographic images of what he was seeing now, but he knew beyond any doubt that this was the Yeerk homeworld.

***

Visser Thirty-two wandered around in the lush blue-green meadow, wondering if he should chance going after his old host again. Staring at the trail of crushed grass, he decided to forgo the chase, for now. Consciously heading in a different direction, Visser Thirty-two tried to put the still-fresh footprints out of his mind.

***

Elfangor turned away from that sickening parody of his home planet, not wanting to see anything more. He decided then and there that he would find Loren, and maybe the two of them together could find a way off of this impossible world. As far as Elfangor was concerned, Visser Thirty-two could find himself.


	42. Finding You

But where to start looking, that was the question. Where would Loren be? Under one of the patches of Earth sky, of that Elfangor was almost certain. But which one?

The waterfall was still visible from where Elfangor stood, although just barely. If he were Loren and he wanted to be found, that was where he would stay. His decision made, Elfangor set off back to the falls at a fast trot.

It felt good to feed, even if the grasses were not truly those of his homeworld. Leaping the stream like he'd done the last time, Elfangor crested the rise in front of the empty scoop – he didn't want to think of it as his own – and kept going.

Switching from a trot to a full-out run, Elfangor pushed everything but Loren out of his thoughts. It was easy to do, since he was already eager to see her. As the waterfall rose ever higher in front of him, Elfangor looked for any sign of Loren. Coming upon a large lake at the base of the falls, Elfangor could now see more clearly that the landscape around him was divided into three different sections.

Only two were familiar to him: he could, of course, clearly recognize the grass and trees of his own homeworld. Those of the Yeerk world were also familiar, more so than Elfangor wanted them to be. But there was also the third, one that bore more than a passing resemblance to those of his world.

Looking to the sky, Elfangor saw that it was in quite the same condition as the land around him. Patches of Andalite, Yeerkish and Earth sky all swirled together in a strange nonpattern. 

Digging his hooves into the grass, Visser Thirty-two found it to have almost the same quality as the species of grass that Alloran preferred to eat back on the Andalite homeworld. By now, Visser Thirty-two had come to the end of the Earthen forest, he now stood on the border of a wide band of Yeerk land. Very familiar Yeerk land.

Stepping out of the forest, Visser Thirty-two realized what it was that he found so familiar about this particular place. It was somewhere that had been described to him in great detail more than once. The large pool that he now stood in front of was undoubtedly Sulp Niar. It was at that moment that Visser Thirty-two had his second shock of the day.

Jarex and Larex, his two pet Mortrons which he had thought long dead by now, were skirting the bank of the large Yeerk pool on whose western edge the Visser now stood. And, just to make things that much more complicated, there stood his former host, arms folded behind his back as he stared out over the placid surface of the pool.

Without a look around, the Navari turned away and strode off into the distance. Not caring at the moment about the other, Visser Thirty-two turned to the two Mortrons. Now he knew beyond any doubt that this could not be his homeworld, since he would have had to pass through an Andalite blockade undetected to transport them there.

And the chances of that happening were quite slim, indeed.

They are about the same as the chances that you could convince your precious 'Navari' to rejoin you. So, they are a bit more than slim you filthy Yeerk, Alloran said this without any particular malice, even the customary insult was delivered in the tone of one who was merely conveying information.

That only enraged Visser Thirty-two further, the mere _thought_ that Alloran would speak to him as if they were equals. Evidently the Andalite did not yet understand who was the master and who the slave, shielding his thoughts from Alloran the Visser made a silent vow that – somehow or other – he would teach the impudent former War-Prince that lesson.

For now, though, he was preoccupied, and so ignored the attempt to distract him. But at the same time making sure not to forget the offense, he would punish Alloran for it later. That much was certain.

Elfangor had reached the lake. It was a beautiful thing, crystal clear with a tower of crashing spray generated by the waterfall. As Elfangor walked closer, his stalk-eyes continued to scan the landscape around him, he noted that while the lake itself was intact and untouched by the three-way split which seemed to dominate the rest of the land, it's borders were not. There was the now familiar Earth and Andalite landscapes, as well as the dark and depressing Yeerk terrain.

"Elfangor!"

Startled, Elfangor jumped, scattering the few droplets of water he had managed to catch. Turning his stalk-eyes toward the voice that he had recognized as Loren's, Elfangor felt relief flood him.

Loren, you're here! You're alive!

"Well, that's right on both counts. Though I'm still not sure exactly where it is we've ended up. Otherwise I'm fine," Loren said, grinning. "How are you?"

I am also quite well, Elfangor replied, smiling with his eyes. _Better now that you're here._ He kept that thought to himself, though. Wait there, I'll come to you.

Suiting actions to words, Elfangor galloped through a cluster of bushes and wove through the sparse trees, leaping to clear the rest of the distance between himself and Loren. Her grin melting into a smile of pure pleasure, Loren also ran, intending to meet Elfangor in the middle. _Just like in one of those cheesy old romance films._

They ran into each other, both wrapping their arms around the other, and Loren had to laugh. Admitting to herself that her current situation wasn't _exactly_ like one of those cheesy old romance movies. _Right, it's a whole lot better,_ Loren smiled to herself.

"I thought I was the only one who made it," she said, smiling. "Sometimes it feels good to be proven wrong, though."

Yes, sometimes it does.

"In some of these places, you'd swear you were on Earth. But this can't be Earth, there's something really wrong about the sky. I've never seen a sky in patches like that, and I've had some pretty weird dreams."

Have you taken a look around?

"Not yet. I came to somewhere over there, about a hundred feet back" she said, pointing to a forest off to the west. "It's not too far from my house. It looks just like a park where I play softball."

Yes, that would be something that you remember. And there will most likely be other things here that are familiar to you. I suspect that this place is not exactly real.

"What do you mean by that?"

I mean that this place would not exist if not for our having made contact with the Time Matrix. You see how this landscape incorporates elements from three distinct worlds?

"Yes, I do. But what does that mean?"

There were three of us who made contact with the Time Matrix. You, myself, and Visser Thirty-two. I think that when we all fought for control we somehow made this place.

"That's why it's in patches! I know the blue sky is from me. And, maybe this will sound a bit strange, but I have a feeling that you had something to do with the gold and red sky."

Yes. That is the sky from my homeworld.

Loren smiled, then her eyes narrowed.

"That green sky gives me the creeps. It's from him, isn't it? Visser Thirty-two made that sky."

Yes. And he is also responsible for that, Elfangor said, directing Loren's attention to the twisted "plants" that made up about one sixth of the surrounding landscape.

"What a place to live," Loren said with distaste.


	43. Mortron Marauders

Elfangor could only agree with her. But he did not want to dwell too long on such things, since there were other things that he and Loren had to do. Finding Visser Thirty-two, for instance. But there was something he wanted to know, before they inevitably started searching for the Visser.

How do you think this happened?

"This place? I'm not really sure, but I don't think the Time Matrix is just some ordinary time machine. I think you have to know _exactly_ where you want to go when you try to use it. I've a feeling that when the three of us fought for control, we somehow forced it to create this place."

Elfangor nodded, that was what he had been thinking as well. He was somewhat surprised that she had figured it out in such a short time, but apparently humans were not quite as primitive as he had at first believed. He almost laughed, humans might not have been as primitive as he had been led to believe, but the physics of the machine they had just used would have been equally incomprehensible to an Andalite.

After all, the Ellimists were supposed to be able to manipulate reality at will. Making something like the Time Matrix would present very little challenge to them, or so it now seemed.

Visser Thirty-two stared at them from across the large lake, Elfangor and his pet human seemed to be preoccupied with one another and so were completely ignoring his scrutiny. He did not know how long this would continue, and so the Visser decided to just hang back and let them notice him whenever. And, if they did not, he would not mind overmuch.

Even though the Visser now made it a point not to think of his former host too often, he knew that this was one of the strategies that he had picked up from the Navari. As he watched, Elfangor and his little human pet turned slowly to face him. Elfangor glared, as did Loren, but her expression looked more spiteful with the addition of her snarling mouth.

There he was, the one who had caused them both so much trouble. Visser Thirty-two stood just across the lake, staring at them from its western bank. But, what really caught Elfangor's attention were the two other aliens standing on either side of the Visser.

They were not any type that he had ever seen, none of the creatures Elfangor had seen or studied had wheels instead of legs. That was precisely what these new aliens had, though. And the wheels were not the perfectly formed circles of artificially made wheels.

These were sloppily formed, suggesting that they were in fact a true part of the creature's body. Elfangor wondered what kind of evolution could have produced such a strange creature. _But then, a week or more ago I also wondered that about humans._

"What in the hell are those things, Elfangor?"

I don't know, Loren. I've never seen anything like them.

As Elfangor watched, the two alien beasts started to roll forward. It was interesting to see, at first. But Elfangor soon forgot his interest when Visser Thirty-two started speaking.

Elfangor, so I see you managed to find your way here, the Visser said mockingly. I see you've noticed my pets, Jarex and Larex. They are from a species called Mortrons, they're quite unlike anything you have seen before.

In what way?

Visser Thirty-two chuckled darkly, shaking his head once.

In a way that you will find out soon enough, of course by then you'll probably wish you hadn't.

Visser Thirty-two just managed to restrain himself from blinking, what he had just said was something that his former host would probably have said. In fact, the laughter of his former host – or whatever was pretending to be him – was echoing inside his head. The Navari was still invisible, sitting on the flat rock by the shore of the lake.

Or, that was what he had been doing the last time Visser Thirty-two had seen him.

Elfangor watched the two Mortrons circle the lake, wondering if they would be able to cross the rather obvious border between the combined landscapes of Earth and his own world and the desolate Yeerk terrain. Once he saw that they could, Elfangor prepared to fight. These were the Visser's pets, and they were no doubt trained to obey his commands.

"I can see why you Andalites hate the Yeerks, Elfangor," Loren said, after the Visser had finished speaking. "No matter what kind of body they're in, they don't have particularly good social skills."

Brave little human girl, Visser Thirty-two sneered at Loren. Do you know that even now, Yeerk advance scouts are evaluating your planet? That soon you and all your fellow humans will be slaves of the Yeerk Empire?

More laughter, louder this time.

__

Really now? Not if we get to them first.

The Visser just stopped himself from asking the image of his former host what he was talking about. He knew now that it was just an image, something he had conjured from his memories and that the Time Matrix had made real. This world and everything in it was a figment of their imaginations.

"Blahbiddy blah, blah, blah," Loren said in a bored voice, rolling her eyes to further express her disinterest.

What? Elfangor wondered, Visser Thirty-two just scowled.

"You do a lot of talking for an invertebrate," Loren sneered. "You think a lot of empty threats are going to frighten me?"

_Empty_ threats? They are far from empty. The Yeerk Empire will have your little world, human, it is only a matter of time.

Loren rolled her eyes, not taking the Visser's words to be anything but stupid boasts. They just stood there for a few moments, the two sides locked in stalemate, and the third silent, invisible observer who wasn't really there at all.

Finally, Visser Thirty-two decided that he had seen enough. It was time to find out just how accurate his previous assessment of Elfangor's ability had been. True, the young Andalite _had_ managed to survive several intense ordeals, but this was a different arena, and the Mortrons were something Elfangor's Academy training could not have possibly prepared him for…

Elfangor was staring at them, seeming to contemplate something. It almost looked like he was interested in them, the Visser chuckled softly to himself. Things were about to get very… intense.

Once the Mortrons had crossed the border between the Yeerk side of the lake and come into the Andalite territory, they attacked. The top half of the beast split off from the bottom, the top becoming a flying creature with webbed wings that raced toward Elfangor with a speed that he could not have expected.

After all, the winged half of the Mortron did not look all that fast. Elfangor cocked his tail, getting ready to do battle with them. Visser Thirty-two laughed to himself, since Elfangor's style of combat would only make more problems for him and his human pet.


	44. The Chase and the Hiding

With surprising speed the winged half of the Mortron came flying straight at him. Elfangor, reacting the way he had been trained to, stood firm and raised his tail into a battle-ready position.

Don't worry, Loren. I can deal with these two creatures, Elfangor said, confident that he could do just that.

The second Mortron quickly released its winged half to join the first, aiming for the closer one Elfangor sliced it in twain. The split halves of the Mortron's avian segment tumbled to the ground and lay there, apparently dead. The second circled around, seemingly oblivious to the death of its counterpart.

Once it was in range, Elfangor slashed it in half almost exactly the same way that he had the first. The Visser found this funny for some reason, Elfangor could hear his raucous laughter echoing through his mind. He was about to tell the Yeerk to shut up, but then he saw the cause of it.

Both avian Mortrons, all four pieces of them, were starting to grow again. Two of the halves were simply becoming the avian component, but the other two were regenerating into two complete Mortrons with incredible speed.

"Elfangor, look out!" Loren shouted.

As Elfangor looked from one to the other, the newly regenerated avian Mortrons flapped their wings and rose slowly into the air once again. Visser Thirty-two was laughing, and this time Elfangor knew why.

Are you doing the equations, Elfangor? the Visser taunted. They regenerate, cut these four Mortrons in half and they will become eight! Eight will become sixteen. Sixteen, thirty-two, I'm sure even you can grasp what will happen if you continue to attack, he said, chuckling.

Loren, I don't know how to fight these creatures! If only I still had a Shredder, Elfangor cried.

"Can you outrun them?"

Yes, they appear to be slow, but I will not abandon you to the mercy of that vile Yeerk.

"If my idea works, you won't have to. How strong is – never mind, it must be strong enough. Look, don't be offended by this, okay?"

Offended, by what?

"I'm going to try something, I hope it works."

With those words, Loren placed her left hand on the back of Elfangor's neck, and her right on the base of his tail. Hoisting herself up with her powerful arms, she straddled Elfangor's back.

"Now Elfangor, let's ride!" Loren said, grinning.

She'd always liked horseback riding. _Of course, this should really be called Andaliteback riding, _she thought with a bit of a laugh. Elfangor, for his part, was confused. But since there was a more pressing matter in front of them, he decided to save his inquires for another time.

The two regenerated Mortrons were closing in on them, and a third avian Mortron had been launched. Elfangor galloped off, feeling Loren grab his shoulders to keep herself steady. The Mortrons were far too slow to keep pace with a running Andalite.

As they outpaced the Visser's beasts and raced out of the Andalite landscape and into the Earthlike forest, Elfangor noticed that the Visser was nowhere to be seen. Loren watched as the trees slowly gave way to the city. The sky was beginning to grow dark as they entered the urban area, Elfangor's hooves clattered loudly once they were on the street.


	45. Familiar Things

What is this substance, Loren?

"It's called asphalt, and it's used to pave streets. Like they one you're standing on right now."

What is the purpose of a street?

"It's what our cars travel on. And, before you ask, cars are a type of vehicle that we use."

Ah, a type of ground-bound transport.

"Yeah, exactly."

They fell silent, and Loren watched as they passed by long rows of parked cars. She started to get the feeling that she had been to this place, this particular neighborhood, before. Once she had come to that conclusion, other familiar things began to jump out at her, until she realized that this was _her _neighborhood.

This was where she and her mother lived. In fact, her house was just five houses down from where they stood right now. She grinned, maybe – just maybe – this funhouse-mirror vision of Earth wouldn't be so bad after all.

Soon, they stood in front of something that resembled Loren's house so much that she could have sworn that she _was_ back on Earth.

"Hey Elfangor, stop here."

Why? What is so important about this place?

"This is where I live," Loren said, pointing to the house on the left.

You live there? How?

"Me, my mother and my father all live in there together."

Inside? Oh, you mean that that structure is _hollow_?

Loren laughed a little, but soon regained her composure and answered.

"Yes, Elfangor, it is hollow inside. That's the whole point of houses, in fact. So that we can live inside them."

Humans are strange.

"So're Andalites," Loren said with a laugh to show she was kidding.

So, how does one enter these hollow creations?

"You see that big rectangles on the front?"

Yes.

"They're called doors. You just open one of those and you can go right inside," Loren said, deciding not to mention that you needed to have a key to open most doors.

That part would be a bit too hard to explain to an alien. As Elfangor, with Loren still on his back, came up the red stone path that led to Loren's dwelling, his attention was focused of the beautiful green grass that was growing around her house. He had seen it around all the houses that they had passed, sometimes with flowers and shrubs to lend a bit of variety to the landscape.

Your planet must have very hardy grasses, since they are able to feed whole families and still remain this lush and green.

Loren blinked at his statement. _Ookay, well _that_ came completely out of left field._ She slid off of Elfangor's back and jogged up the steps that led up to her porch. Elfangor for his part, wondered just what purpose those little rectangles stacked one on top of the other served.

He also wanted to tell Loren that his own home had been empty, and so she should not expect that much from this place that was modeled after her own. But she seemed so happy, so content and hopeful right now, did he really want to take that away from her? And so he stayed silent, hoping that Loren would have better luck with her home than he had with his.

Loren crouched down by the welcome mat, pulled up one of the corners and got the spare key that her mother had bought for her when she had turned ten. Turning the key in the lock, Loren let herself in and waved for Elfangor to follow her.

Elfangor looked down at the sort, pale tan grass that grew inside the hollow house. He ground a hoof into it, wondering what it tasted like, and also why they would grow grass inside their house when they had a perfectly good patch of tasty-looking grass just outside. Maybe this patch tasted different.

But when he tried to get a taste of it, Elfangor found that he could not eat it. He looked down, wondering why they would grow a patch of inedible grass in their home. He was just about to ask Loren about it when they both heard a voice coming from somewhere out of sight.

"Mom?" Loren called out, recognizing the speaker.

"I'm in the kitchen, sweetheart!" the person, whom Elfangor could only assume was Loren's mother, called back in a loud voice.

Loren smiled widely, and Elfangor was glad to see her so happy. She gave his hand a quick squeeze, then made her way toward the kitchen. Wherever that was.

Loren practically ran through the living room, eager to see her mother or whatever was currently pretending to be her. _Okay, so this place isn't really Earth, and it has some very unattractive and downright nasty looking parts. But, all in all, I think I could get used to it._ Loren finished her thought just as she came into the kitchen.

There was her mother Maureen, looking just the way Loren had remembered her during the times she had been homesick aboard that flying saucer. The same flyaway blonde hair, the same kind brown eyes, and the same wide smile that had always made Loren glad to be home. _Wow. Just…wow._ Then Loren did something that she hadn't done since she was ten.

With a cry of "Mommy!", Loren threw herself into her mother's waiting arms. She felt the other woman's limbs encircling her in turn, and she leaned her head against her mom's chest. Elfangor came in right then, his hooves slipping a bit on the tile floor.

He wondered who this new human was, but then realized that she must be Loren's mother if she was so happy to see her. Just then, the other human looked up and saw Elfangor staring at her. She smiled and turned back to Loren.

"Loren honey, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

Loren felt her mother pull back a bit, and she took a half step backward herself._ Well,_ she thought, _this is certainly going to be interesting._ Composing herself, Loren decided that honesty was the best response for a situation like this.

"Mom, this is my friend Elfangor. You don't have to be afraid of him, he's my friend."

"Why should I be afraid of him? He's just an Andalite, like any other."

__

Oh, he's just another… Wait, what did she say? Loren wasn't really sure that she had heard her mom right. She had always known that her mother was very open minded, but aliens were probably not something that most sane people took seriously.


	46. Heartbreak

"Uh, mom, can't you tell that Elfangor isn't one of my friends from school? Can't you see that he's different? As in, not human?"

Maureen laughed, just like she had whenever Loren had said something she thought was particularly silly.

"Of course he's not human, silly. You think I don't know an Andalite when I see one?"

Loren shook her head in denial, there was just no way that her mother could know about Andalites! Sure, she was a hippie at heart, and Loren had kind of expected her to accept Elfangor without a lot of fuss and cajoling, but there was no way that she could know about Andalites. For one thing, if those weird Skrit Na guys had kidnapped her, the two of them would have spent weeks on end just discussing why it had happened and what it meant.

Her mom was a deeply philosophical person, so being taken offplanet by a bunch of aliens would definitely rate a ten on her scale of 'things that mean something', and the two of them had almost never kept secrets from each other. But, if this wasn't her, then that meant…

"You can't know about Andalites," Loren protested weakly, still trying to deny what she had started to suspect.

Maureen made a face, the same one that she had always made when Loren had teased her about being from the Stone Age.

"Just because I don't keep up on all the trends that you kids like to follow does not mean I'm from the Stone Age," Maureen said, smiling to take the sting out of her words. "I know an Andalite when I see one, thank you very much."

"Oh, god you can't… You can't know about Andalites," Loren said, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as she reluctantly put the pieces together.

"Loren sweetie, what's wrong?" Maureen asked, reaching out to touch Loren's shoulder.

As Loren remembered her mother doing so many times, when she had been crying or had just looked sad. But the last thing Loren wanted was to be touched by this shadow that was pretending to be her mother. She pulled back, recoiling before she could let herself be pulled into an embrace by someone who looked so much like someone she loved but wasn't, and could never be.

"Oh god, you're not even real. You're not _real_."

"Loren honey, of course I'm real," Maureen said, reaching for Loren again as she backed slowly toward the door.

"You're not my mother! You're not even real!"

Elfangor put his hand on Loren's shoulder, having learned that human's derive comfort from physical contact.

Loren, you are right. She is not your mother. She is a projection that was made from your thoughts and memories. The reason that she knows about Andalites is because you knew about Andalites when you remembered her.

These words, far from calming Loren, instead gave her a target for the irrational rage that was building up inside her.

"Get away from me! This is all your fault! Just leave me alone!" Loren screamed, somehow retaining enough caution not to slap Elfangor in the face.

Loren threw off Elfangor's comforting touch, then turned and dashed out of the kitchen. Racing up the stairs to her room and slamming the door once she was inside, Loren lay facedown on her bed, just trying not to scream or cry.

***

Back in the kitchen, Elfangor and Maureen were both standing together in stunned silence. Finally, after looking the way Loren had gone, Elfangor turned back towards the shadow/memory of a human woman.

I am sorry, he said to her, although he was not sure that she would understand why.

"Yeah, sure," Maureen said, also looking out the door Loren had run out of.

Loren's mother, can you show me where Loren's room is?

"Maureen," she said distractedly. "Yeah, it's the first room upstairs, on the right. Leave the door open a crack, okay? That's one of the house rules when Loren has friends over."

Elfangor nodded, trotting out of the kitchen to the stairs. Looking up at the staircase in front of him, Elfangor wondered what the purpose of this structure was. Perhaps it was simply a part of the human fascination with rectangular shapes, it certainly made it possible for them to add a second level to their dwellings. Turning them into vertical rectangles themselves.

***

Loren, now sick of just laying around and feeling sorry for herself, rolled out of bed. She needed to do something or she would explode, so she headed over to her softball gear. Softball was a good game to play when you wanted to hit something.

Picking up her softball bat and her mitt, Loren headed back for the stairs, not wanting to run into that copy of her mother. She didn't even want to deal with Elfangor right now.

Slipping out was fairly easy, as her pseudo-mother had left the kitchen, and Elfangor was gone as well.


	47. Wanderers

Elfangor finally came to Loren's door, after having a bit of trouble with the stairs. They were not ideally suited to a creature with hooves, and he had slipped a few times on their polished surfaces before he had found what he assumed was the purpose of the raised wooden pole beside the staircase.

He had gripped the pole as tightly as his weaker hands allowed, and now he stood in front of the door that was the only thing between him and Loren. Mimicking her actions from before, he reached out and turned the small metallic ball on the right side of the door. Pushing it open, he looked around the room that Loren had created for herself.

The room was empty, that was what Elfangor noticed first. Loren was not in it, and he was more than a little worried about her. But he was also curious as to what she had brought here from her memories of her home. The first thing that he noticed was the large rectangular shape that was almost directly in front of him.

More rectangles, humans seemed to be inordinately fond of the shape. It looked like it was covered in the same kind of fabric that the humans made their artificial skin out of, in fact. There were also two more upraised, rectangular platforms, though they were nowhere near as large as the main one.

A jumble of the bound paper sheaves that humans referred to as either books or magazines – although what distinguished one from the other Elfangor wasn't sure – lay on one of the platforms. Elfangor walked over and opened one. He couldn't read what was written there of course, but the writing stopped in the middle of the left sheet of paper.

Elfangor supposed that Loren had yet to finish reading this volume, so she could not recreate the text from a memory she did not possess. There was also a small, flat, still image of Loren with her mother and a male human that Elfangor supposed was her father.

Elfangor removed it from its resting-place, studying it in hope of gaining some insight into Loren's life. But the frozen, smiling faces offered him nothing. He put it back down, and decided to leave.

Elfangor knew that he would have to contend with the stairs again to get back outside, so he steeled himself to deal with them. As he headed out of the door, he cast a last look back at Loren's room. It was slightly disordered, but it seemed like a comfortable place for a human to be.

Gripping the rail at the side of the stairs, this time with both hands, Elfangor fought down the sudden uneasiness he felt going down at such a steep angle. As he looked down, he also fought the sudden mental image of himself falling down the slippery stairs. _How do humans do this? _He wondered. _They have only two legs._

As last he made it to the base of the stairs, all without losing his footing even once. Retracing the path Loren had taken through her home, he left the human dwelling and was soon back outside, but Loren was still nowhere to be seen. He heard something then, the sound of a distant impact, but of what Elfangor did not know.

He followed it though, since it was as good a direction as any to go. He kept an eye out in all directions, as Andalites are wont to do, since Loren could have been looking for him as well. He heard the noise again, louder this time since he had gotten closer, and found Loren standing in a field that was mostly bare dirt.

It was however, bordered with some rather tasty-looking grass, something like the grass growing in front of Loren's house. Behind Loren stood a tall wire cage with no front door. She had a stick, about as long as her arm, gripped in both hands. The stick was strangely shaped, since the base was narrow enough so that Loren could wrap both of her hands around it and the tip was roughly twice that size.

She stood with her feet apart, the stick held diagonally in front of her. Her entire demeanor was that of someone waiting for something, and then it happened. Or rather, she made it happen; Loren tossed a small, white sphere into the air just in front of her.

Why she did this, Elfangor didn't know, but it seemed to have some point to it. Gripping the stick with both hands again, since she had used her left hand to throw the sphere, she swung it into the path of the falling object again and again until at last she managed to connect. There was a loud impact sound, exactly the same one that had led him here, in fact.

Loren either did not notice his approach, or she was just choosing to ignore him right now. Given her state of mind when she had left, though, Elfangor kind of suspected it was the latter. She repeated the process – taking a sphere from the circular, open-topped container at her feet. Throwing it into the air, and swinging the stick until she connected with the sphere and sent it flying through the air with a loud CRACK! – until she had exhausted the supply in the container.

Loren!

She let her left hand drop to her side, leaning on the stick now gripped solely with her right. Staring out at the white spheres scattered in the grassy part of the field. When she spoke, she seemed to be distancing herself from her emotions, judging by the flat tone of her voice.

"I really should go gather up all the balls, coach goes ape if we lose our equipment."

Elfangor did not know what Loren meant by "go ape", but he decided to forgo that question in favor of something he was more interested in.

What were you doing?

"Playing softball."

Elfangor did not understand what this new word meant, but Loren quickly elaborated.

"You see that high spot over there?" Loren asked, pointing with the stick to a spot roughly in the center of the expanse of dirt. "That's the pitchers mound. The pitcher throws the ball and the batter, that's me, tries to knock the stitches off of her."

Off of the pitcher?

"The ball," Loren said distractedly, bending her legs so far that she was almost touching the ground.

Elfangor had seen her do this once before, on the old Model 14 that he and Arbron had used to rescue her and Chapman from the Skrit Na. She had been checking a wound on Chapman's head, and Elfangor and Arbron had both been impressed that she hadn't fallen over while doing it. But now, as she began to gather up the scattered balls, Elfangor saw something in her manner that made him realize why she had run out on him.

You are upset.

"Gee, what was your _first_ clue?" she asked shortly.

Well, when you - 

"It's just an expression," Loren said, cutting him off.

Elfangor did not know how to respond to that, and so they were both silent for the next few minutes. The only sound was that of the balls being dropped back into the container that Loren had slung over the lower part of her left arm. She had dropped her stick just before starting to pick up the balls, and now it lay half in and half out of the grassy part of the field.

"Why did this happen?" she asked suddenly.

What?

"All of this. My mother acting like a weird clone of herself, but knowing things that she shouldn't know. My neighborhood with no people in it, the sky and ground in all those patches. Why did all this happen?"

Oh, Elfangor said, searching for a way to explain something he didn't understand very well himself. I think you were right when you surmised that this place was created by our thoughts. We all wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere that was familiar to us. And we each made contact with the Time Matrix, all of us with our own separate and contradictory desires. The Time Matrix could not transport you to your world, while at the same time transporting myself and the Visser to our own worlds. So it created this place from our thoughts and memories.

"So, what you're saying is this entire place wouldn't have existed if we hadn't been fighting over where to go?"

Succinctly put, yes. And the process was complicated by the fact that none of us were thinking all that clearly. We were suffocating from lack of oxygen, as well as slowly freezing to death. The Time Matrix did all it could with the information it had been given.

Loren nodded, but she still seemed to be troubled by something.

"I thought the Time Matrix was a time machine," she said at last, looking at him uncertainly.

Some people have theorized that there is not only one universe, but many. Perhaps, when we were all fighting for control, each wanting the Time Matrix to arrive at a different destination, instead of traveling through the spacetime of our own universe like I suspect the Matrix was designed to do, we forced it to create a separate universe. Everything here was created from our own flawed and incomplete memories. Your mother, and anyone like her that we might encounter, would all have been pulled from any memories of them that you had.

Loren looked at a spot on the ground, just between her feet. Trying to wrap her mind around all of what she had just heard was giving her a headache.


	48. The Escape

"So, that's why my mom knew about Andalites. Do you think that if I asked her about the Yeerks, she would say the things I'd been thinking about them?"

Yes. Since she is made out of your thoughts and memories, she would naturally share any opinions that you felt strongly about. But you must remember that she is not truly your mother. She is not even a true life form, she is just something that you have constructed out of your thoughts and memories of her. I think, and you must remember that this is just my hypothesis, that the more complex things like living creatures are more likely to be incomplete.

"Great. It's a wonderful universe, isn't it?" she snorted sarcastically.

That was sarcasm again, correct? Elfangor asked, still unsure of how to recognize when Loren was being serious and when she was not.

"Yes, that was sarcasm again." Then, Loren decided to ask the question that had just occurred to her. "But, what about all the trees and stuff? They all look and feel just like they should."

That is because any form of plantlife, no matter how complex it might seem, is nowhere the level of complexity of a sentient life form. A tree, a blade of grass, a flower, and even inert matter like rock, sand or water. All of these are things that our minds are able to recall quickly and with greater detail than living creatures, who we do not see as much of, or may not remember as clearly. All of this place is made of our thoughts and impressions of our three worlds.

As they had been talking, Elfangor and Loren had continued their walk through the woods at the edge of what Loren had called a softball field. Loren slowed her pace a bit to get a better look at the trees, if she were to be completely honest with herself she would have to admit that she _did _remember the landscape a lot more clearly than she remembered most people. Landscapes just seemed easier to call to mind, somehow.

Then, Loren noticed – or thought she saw – something up ahead that was so out of place in this seemingly tranquil forest that it just about screamed for her attention. She stiffened, staring at what she had almost seen, then started walking toward it with newfound purpose.

Loren, did you see something?

"No, just-just a feeling I have, Elfangor," she said without turning, evidently focused singularly on what was in front of her.

Loren, with Elfangor not far behind her, quickly came upon the thing that she had sensed. It was nothing, pure and simple. Empty white blankness of the kind that both of them now had experience with, the pure white emptiness of Zero-space.

They had just found the edge of their miniature universe. Loren decided to try something. She didn't know where she had gotten the idea to do it, but it didn't seem like it would hurt to try. Reaching forward, past the place where the ground and the sky both gave way to the endless expanse of white, she tried to touch the whiteness with her fingertips. Not knowing exactly where the exact end of the universe was, she just reached out into it.

As soon as she touched it though, her fingers bent backwards._ This can't be happening,_ she thought. Not feeling any pain, and therefore unsure if what she was seeing was real, Loren pushed her entire hand and forearm into the expanse of white. This time there could be no doubting what she had seen, as her entire lower arm bent smoothly back on itself, apparently uncaring of things such as the strength of her bones, or the fact that they would break under such abuse normally.

"_NO! _No! No! No!" she screamed.

Loren stared at her upside-down hand and fingers, feeling more and more afraid the longer she looked. There was nothing normal about this place, nothing good. Pulling her arm back from that unnatural area of nothingness, Loren started to back away from the barrier.

Loren, it is only… Elfangor's thought-speech trailed off. _Only what? Only _what_?_ He demanded of himself.

What could he possibly say that would help comfort his friend when she was trapped in this nightmare? Nothing. There was nothing that he could say or do that would comfort Loren, because he felt his own mind searching for some form of reassurance. And how could he reassure Loren when he was not even sure himself?

"Elfangor, this place is all wrong," Loren said, her voice not shaking nearly as much as it had been before. "I want to go home, to my _real_ home on planet Earth. This place isn't real!"

I know, I feel it too, Elfangor said, outwardly still the very epitome of Andalite calm and detachment, even though inwardly he was just as frightened as Loren.

"We have to leave, right away. This place just can't be. And I-I get the feeling that this universe isn't entirely - stable."

We have to find the Time Matrix, Elfangor said. It is the only way that we can conceivably get out of this mini-universe. However, we also have the Visser to deal with, and he will try and stop us from reaching the Time Matrix.

Loren glared, she had had more than enough of that arrogant, overbearing Yeerk creep to last her a lifetime. Hefting her softball bat, Loren gave Elfangor a look that chilled his blood for a moment.

"Let him try and stop us," she hissed, glaring out at the horizon. "Just let him try."

Meanwhile, Visser Thirty-two was also coming to the conclusion that the Time Matrix was the only way to get out of this mixed and distorted version of their three respective homeworlds. He had not encountered his memory-projection of the Navari for quite some time now, for which he was both thankful and a bit disappointed.

"So, finally figured it out, have you," sneered a well-remembered voice coming from just behind him.

The Visser swiveled one of his stalk eyes, grateful now for the extra body part. The black-haired humanoid was smirking at him. The expression itself was familiar from his dealings with the human named Chapman. But it was also the same expression that the Navari himself had worn many times while on the Taxxon world. Visser Thirty-two wondered which of his memories this was taken from.

Why do you find this so amusing? Visser Thirty-two asked, without pausing to think about the fact that this was only one of his memories given a voice and physical form.

The Navari laughed. "Because you want me to," he purred in the Visser's host's ear.

Visser Thirty-two stopped walking abruptly, that was not the answer he had been expecting. Truthfully, he hadn't even been expecting to _get_ an answer, much less anything like what he had gotten. He began to wonder if this could be the real Navari, instead of merely one of the Visser's memories of him.

__

No, I'm not. But you want me to be… don't you? the echoes of his silent laughter filled Visser Thirty-two's head, as his memory of the Navari turned and walked away. Fading into invisibility before he had passed out of the Visser's range of vision.

Elfangor and Loren skirted the edge of the miniverse, always keeping the boundary of Zero-space on their right. As they made their way though it, they began to see that no part of it, not even these outermost edges, was completely untouched by the trilateral split. Once, they had been walking through a band of Andalite land that Elfangor had recognized as a field where he had been fond of running around in when he was a young child. But, in the middle of that familiar field, there had stood three pine trees that Loren had recognized as being from a park that she and her father had gone to recently.

Another time, Loren had spotted a circular strip of the black substance that humans used to pave their streets. Asphalt, Elfangor had remembered it was called. Loren had said that this was a go-kart track that she had been to once for her thirteenth birthday. But Elfangor had been sure there had not been any derrishul trees bordering the go-kart track that had been on Earth.

And even that was not the full extent of the combining of their three worlds. Wherever they had gone, they had almost always come across a wandering animal from one of the three planets. The first one had peen a small quadruped with a very flexible tail. The animal, which Loren had identified as a cat, had been covered in soft looking white fur that had large and irregular black patches. The second time, Loren had almost stepped on one of the Hoobers that had been hopping past them, on their way to some unknown destination.

The latest animal that they had come across had been one of the Yeerkish quadrupeds that Elfangor had encountered when he had just begun to search for Loren. She had commented on it being "one seriously weird cow", whatever a cow was. They had also seen more examples of human construction, including what Loren called a school. However, it was nothing like the schools on the Andalite homeworld.

It had not been one of the more aesthetically pleasing examples of human construction, and even Loren had agreed with this assessment.

They had both made an unconscious decision to avoid the Yeerk patches entirely if at all possible, and it was not as though they were indistinguishable from the areas of Andalite or Earthlike land. The Yeerk parts of the landscape were like ugly, open wounds on the planet itself.

Loren shook her head. "I can't believe that I brought the _school_, of all things, into this universe. And then I completely forgot to put in a grocery store," she said ruefully, looking like she couldn't decide whether or not to laugh.

What is a grocery store? Elfangor asked, as Loren managed to confuse him once again.

"Oh, it's a place we humans go to buy food. And sometimes other stuff too."

Ah, Elfangor said, not quite sure what to say.

Elfangor was remembering the time that the humans had spent in deep space aboard the _Jahar_; there he had seen them eat the emergency rations of liquefied grass. The humans had opened the containers and just poured the contents into their mouths. Elfangor had not cared how they did it at first, but soon he had become interested in the way Loren's golden hair tumbled down her back. Almost like a liquid itself.

The shipboard emergency rations were intended for Andalites who were either too ill or had been injured so badly as to make normal grazing impossible. They were meant to be used to keep those Andalites reasonably healthy, until they could be treated on the homeworld. But, since both humans had flatly refused to feed in the manner of Andalites, they had had to improvise.


	49. Calculations

The two of them were walking on a street. The street had begun almost in the center of one of the meadows that Elfangor had recalled from childhood, and it seemed to stop after a fair distance. Loren had been troubled by this at first, explaining to him that streets such as this one did not belong in the middle of meadows. Elfangor had suspected that was the case.

There was however, something at the end of the street which excited Loren a great deal. Judging by the way that she jumped, and the expression on her face, Elfangor guessed that this was something that pleased her. It was a building decorated with two conjoined yellow arcs, it also had a great deal of transparent materiel on the sides and back of the structure.

"Can't be!" Loren gasped happily in shock; jumping up and clapping her hands like she hadn't done since she was still six years old. "It's just not possible! I brought Mickey D's! I brought a McDonald's here! All right!"

Trusting that Elfangor would follow her, Loren headed into the fast-food restaurant. As soon as she entered the building, though, Loren stopped short, one hand to her mouth in sheer horror. Standing in front of her, behind the familiar McDonald's serving counter was what at first glance seemed to be a person, but couldn't possibly be. Loren was peripherally aware of Elfangor behind her, but all of her attention was focused on the horrific figure in front of her.

Its overall appearance was human, but that only made the sight of its face all the more horrible. Its face was covered in oversized zits, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the fact that this _thing_ had no eyes, none at all. But it looked like it was staring at her from behind the counter.

"Oh my God, what did I do?" Loren half sobbed, looking at the monstrosity she had created.

"Welcome to McDonald's. Can I take your order?" it asked, sounding like all the other McDonald's counter guys back on Earth.

It was this last part that really freaked her out. He looked like something out of a horror movie, so Loren hadn't expected him to sound so, so _normal_. Not looking back, Loren dashed out of the fast food place. Elfangor followed her out, wanting to somehow reassure Loren that this was not her fault.

Loren had bent over with her hands on her knees and was breathing hard, almost as if she had run a very great distance instead of merely taking a few hurried steps out of a human-built establishment. She was facing away from him, so Elfangor was not quite sure of how to approach her. Then he heard her speaking.

"Oh god, oh no. What did I do?" Loren panted, still reeling from the aftereffects of sheer horror.

Elfangor came up swiftly behind her, walking more heavily than he usually did so as not to startle her when she was so obviously distraught. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, knowing now that humans were more comforted by such physical contact than by mere words.

Is - is this a human you are familiar with, Loren? Elfangor asked, thinking that she would be better able to cope with seeing a stranger in this state than with seeing someone she knew.

"Yeah. Well, not very well, but I do know him. He's this guy that takes our orders whenever we come to McDonald's. My friends all say he likes me, but all I keep noticing about him is how bad his acne is. That poor guy, I can't believe I did that to him."

The food that he serves may still be real, _At least as real as anything else is in this universe, at least._ Elfangor thought to himself. It would most likely be beneficial for you to eat some human food.

Loren looked back at the McDonald's building, half of her wanting to go back in there and eat, and the other part of her wanting to get as far away from that particular place as she possibly could. But in the end, she was just hungry enough to go into that place, with the guy that would have landed himself a role in a horror movie with no trouble at all. Walking back into the restaurant, Loren steeled herself to face the nightmarish face.

"Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?"

"Yes… I mean yes, I'd like a Big Mac, fries and a Coke."

The human-looking thing nodded. "That will be four dollars and nineteen cents," he said.

Loren hesitated for just a moment, before digging into her left pocket for the money she had brought with her from the real Earth. She wondered idly if the bills and coins would disappear once she and Elfangor finally left this little funhouse. She hoped not, since she had planed to use it to buy herself a real Big Mac and fries when she got back to Earth. But, that had been before she had been sucked into this mini-universe with the Andalite she was starting to fall in love with. As well as some slug with a body of the same species, who also had delusions of grandeur.

The bag of food was placed on the countertop in front of her, and Loren could already smell the mouth-watering scent of a juicy McDonald's Big Mac. To Elfangor, however, the scent wasn't nearly so enticing. The contents of the bag smelled almost sickening to him. But Loren seemed pleased, and so Elfangor kept silent.

"Well," Loren said, feeling better than she had when she'd first walked in to this funhouse mirror version of a fast-food restaurant. "At least I did something right when I made this place," she looked inside the bag and grinned. "I remembered to put extra pickles on the Big Macs."

Elfangor did not know what a pickle was, but he surmised that it was some kind of edible substance that was pleasing to Loren. Or else, why would she be so happy about having extra? Loren turned to regard the pseudo-human standing behind the counter and spoke again.

"Come on, let's go back outside," she said, speaking in a soft voice so as not to attract the attention of the eyeless creature standing behind the counter. "I don't want to eat in her with… with _him_."

"Enjoy your meal, and come back soon," he said, repeating the send-off spiel that Loren had heard at every McDonald's that she had come in to for a meal. _Sorry guy, but I don't see that happening,_ Loren thought.

The two of them exited the McDonald's, and crossed the street. There was an open patch of grass there. It didn't belong exactly where it was, but Loren wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She sat down to eat while Elfangor, who - having four legs - couldn't very well sit, walked around the small meadow. Almost as if he were checking for danger. But Loren was sure that that Visser Thirty-two creep was far away from them at the moment, so she decided to give him something else to think about.

"Hey, Elfangor!" Loren's sudden shout distracted Elfangor from his grazing. He had enjoyed the flavor of the Earthlike grass beneath his hooves, as the nutrients were absorbed into his hollow hooves. Now he turned his stalk-eyes to look at Loren.

Yes?

"C'mere," she said, making a gesture with her hand as though scooping up handfuls of air and throwing them at her face. Elfangor did not know what to make of this strange gesture, so he walked over to ask what she wanted. Loren made a smile with her human mouth, and Elfangor had the feeling that getting someone to come over to the other person was just what this human gesture was intended to do.

Once he was standing beside her, Loren - while still eating what she had referred to as a Big Mac - began to explain to him just what a Big Mac was. Elfangor would rather not have known. But, having actual human food to eat seemed to revive Loren, since she had her usual level of energy back. Even her sense of humor seemed to be coming back.

"Well, I'm glad that I didn't try and recreate the cheerleading squad in this universe," Loren said, laughing softly at what was obviously a private joke. "They rejected me, and I hate to think of the kind of mess I'd have made of some of them."

Elfangor did not know what Loren was talking about, but it was clear that she was starting to feel more like herself. Elfangor stared up at the patchy sky with his stalk-eyes, trying to make at least _some_ sense of this disjointed and combined universe. Loren was now drinking something that she referred to as Coke, in between bites of some long, pale yellow sticks called "french fries".

All of a sudden, it came to him: It's a multidimensional pattern!

"Huh?" Loren asked, trying to talk even while she was finishing off a handful of fries.

The sky, the way small pieces of Andalite, Earth and Yeerkish environments are all combined in the landscape and sky around us. I missed it at first, but there is a pattern. I didn't see the pattern at first, because it looks completely random from our three-dimensional perspective. It would make sense if we were able to see it from a higher dimension, but I am sure now of what it is. It's a hyper spiral.

"And that's what, exactly?" asked Loren who had been trying, with limited success, to follow Elfangor's increasingly technical explanation.

A spiral. But in higher dimensions than the ones we experience every day. And if I'm right… yes! The Time Matrix should be at the center of the spiral.

"Where is that?" Loren asked, before she started to drink a bit more of her Coke.

I am not sure. But I think I would be able to find it. And if I can, Visser Thirty-two will be able to as well.

"That's why he hasn't been trying to attack us anymore! He's after the Time Matrix!" Loren shot to her feet. "We have to get to it before he does. Come on Elfangor, let's go! Let's go!"

You seem to have recovered your energy, Elfangor commented.

"The wonders of a sugar rush, Elfangor," Loren said, smiling at the slightly confused look that came into the Andalite's eyes. "Let's get moving quickly, before it wears off," Elfangor apparently decided not to comment, since that was the last she heard on the subject.

Come then, I think the center of the spiral is in this direction.

"How do you know?" Loren asked, finishing off the last of her soda and stashing the empty cup in her bag with the rest of her trash.

I do not know. I just, have a feeling.

"Well, since you're the alien here, I guess that's good enough for me," Loren assured him, smiling.

Loren and Elfangor both turned toward the northern horizon, and set off in that direction to find the Time Matrix. Almost unconsciously, they began to drift together, and Loren slipped her hand into Elfangor's. Elfangor was startled at first, to discover that Loren's strong hand was wrapped around his own more slender one.

And together they walked north, looking for the center of the spiral. Looking for the Time Matrix, hoping to find it before Visser Thirty-two. As they walked, the landscape around them became more and more confused. The patches of land and sky were more frequently combined, and in increasingly odd ways. As of right now, the two of them were walking through a patch that was part Earth, part Andalite, and part Yeerk.

"I like your planet, what I've seen of it anyway," Loren spoke up suddenly. "It's a lot like Earth, without all the cities and houses and stuff. But, you guys must have cities somewhere. I mean, you have incredible technology."

Once, a long time ago we had cities, just like you have them on Earth. But we are a race of free-running herd animals, it is the way we evolved. Millions of years ago, Andalites moved in vast herds across our continents. These huge herds would split up into smaller herds at different times of the year. Then, as time passed, we got used to forming smaller herds, families really. Each family had their own scoop, which would be our equivalent of a house, and everyone had their own grazing land. All of the Andalite environment you see around you is part of the land that belongs to my family.

They came upon a patch of Yeerkish territory, complete with green, lightning-streaked sky, Yeerk pools, and bizarre ground-hugging trees. By unspoken consensus they avoided it, and found a wide Andalite meadow to walk through. Elfangor again took up the thread of his narrative.

Once we had evolved to form families, we began to study science and nature. And again, over millions of years, we learned to build things. Flight capable vehicles, and communication devices to extend the range of our thought-speech. Our scoops became larger, as more families started to join together. We began to build cities, like the ones you have on Earth. Soon, we had thousands of Andalites all jammed together, without enough grazing space for any of them. But, at the same time, we were starting to develop space travel. We were not satisfied, though, since there were too many of us in one place. We knew something had to be done about this situation, so we dismantled our cities, divided up the land, and returned to our lives in simple family scoops. We still build starships, but now we do so one step at a time. My family designs heat transfer components for fighters. Another family will build the components from our designs. And another will transport the completed parts to the spaceport. I suppose that our three spaceports are the closest things we Andalites come to having a city like the ones you humans make.

"We're very different, aren't we?" It was kind of an obvious question, given how many things Loren had seen, so she didn't really expect an answer.

Yes, we are in some ways. But not so different in others.

"When all of this is over, you'll go back to your planet, I'll go back to mine, and then you'll erase all my memories of this place."

Elfangor stopped walking, surprised that Loren had remembered such a small thing after so many big events had transpired.

Loren, I no longer have the equipment aboard the _Jahar_, or any ship for that matter. I would need to have that kind of apparatus to be able to erase your memory.

"But, if you could you still would?"

No, I wouldn't, Elfangor said, coming to the rather startling conclusion that, if given the chance, he would not obey the laws of his people. He simply did not want to.

"Why not?"

Because… because I do not think, after all that has happened, that I could stand to be the only person alive who knew the truth. And, I do not think that I could stand having you forget me, Loren.

"I care about you too, Elfangor. I care a lot."

They resumed walking after that, but Elfangor was a bit confused by what Loren had said. Had he said that he cared about her? No, not in those words at least. And yet on some level, in some strange way, Elfangor realized that he cared for Loren as well. That was why, given the chance, he would not erase Loren's memories.


	50. Twisted World

We would be able to move faster if you were to climb on my back the way you did before, Elfangor said, deciding that his newly discovered feelings for Loren could be discussed at a later date.

"Yeah, I guess we would."

Hefting herself back up onto Elfangor's back, Loren held on as he started to gallop again. Elfangor was almost sure at this point that he and Loren were inside a hyper-dimensional spiral. He was also fairly confident that they would find the Time Matrix at the center of the spiral. But he was also a bit worried that Visser Thirty-two might have figured that part of the puzzle out before he had.

The landscapes were starting to mix more thoroughly now, and it was becoming more difficult to avoid those areas that had been created to resemble the Yeerk world. Finally, Elfangor came across a wide expanse of Yeerkish territory that was directly in their path.

"I - I think we have to go through this," Loren said with a shudder of distaste.

I think you are right, Loren. _Though I don't like it any more than you do,_ Elfangor thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, and trying to quash the persistent feeling of unease he had at the thought of just walking blindly into the territory of his greatest enemy. Elfangor took a tentative step into the Yeerk area. The intense humidity hit him like a solid wall, more humidity than Elfangor had ever felt in his life. It was also hotter in that area than it was in either the Earthlike landscapes or the Andalite areas.

Elfangor was not hungry, for which he was very grateful, but the sparse Yeerk foliage would have probably made him lose his appetite. As they ventured further in, Elfangor and Loren saw another one of those plant/creatures that Elfangor had seen when he had been searching for Loren. It slid out of its hole with a sound like wet cloth being dragged over gravel, then it started to lick the air in a circle around its hole.

Luckily though, Elfangor was far enough out of its range that it didn't try to eat them. It was not as though he couldn't have handled the creature if it had attacked, but it would have cost them a fair amount of time. Time was something Elfangor did not want to waste. As they ventured still further into the Yeerkish territory, they both began to lose some of the optimism that seeing each other again had caused. The landscape around them seemed to be adding to the feelings of depression and uncertainty that were building in both of them.

Finally, they came to the edge of the Yeerk landscape and gratefully stepped over it. They had arrived in the Andalite countryside again. It was a place Loren was starting to like almost as much as the valleys and meadows she had seen on Earth. Elfangor was looking around carefully, since he had recognized something about this particular area.

It came to him rather abruptly: this was the scoop that belonged to his friend Allania-Essal-Corrosi. Elfangor wondered whether or not Allania would be in his scoop, before deciding that he would rather not find out how well he had recreated his friend from memory.

"Is that your home?" Loren asked suddenly.

No. That is the scoop of a friend's family.

"Well, maybe your friend's home. How about we go see if we can find him?"

Elfangor sighed. That is something I was hoping you would not suggest.

"Why?"

Have you already forgotten about your mother? Or that McDonald person? I don't want to have to face my friend that way.

"Oh, all right then." Loren said, sounding not the least bit put-out. "After all, we still need to find the Time Matrix so we can get out of this funhouse-mirror world."

Indeed, Elfangor agreed, although he hadn't the slightest idea what a funhouse-mirror was.

Unexpectedly Elfangor's right forehoof caught on a rock, nearly causing him to knock Loren into his back. Loren, for her part, was staring in shock at her fingernails. They had grown a little under half an inch, and she could still see them growing!

"Elfangor! Elfangor, something weird's happening to my fingernails," Loren said, managing to control the slight hint of panic that had crept into her voice when she had first seen her nails growing that fast.

Elfangor turned his stalk-eyes back so that he could get a look a Loren's fingernails. What he saw was not very reassuring, her fingernails were more than half an inch longer than they had been when he had found her. As a matter of fact, her hair was somewhat longer as well.

Your hair has grown as well, Loren.

Loren ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. "God, it's grown an inch, it would have taken a couple weeks for it to get this long normally. What's going on here?"

We are beginning to age more rapidly than we would in the outside universe. My hooves are growing about as fast as your nails, that was why I almost tripped. It is something I was concerned about, as we get nearer to the center of this spiral universe, time is going to start moving faster than it does in the outer regions.

"Then we'd better hurry up," Loren said, not wanting to spend any more time then she had to in this bizarre place.

Without another word, Elfangor set off at a rapid clip, being very careful to lift his overgrown hooves well clear of the ground. The entire universe was becoming less and less distinct. Andalite, Earth, and Yeerkish patches were no longer clearly separated from one another by definable borders, instead they were all starting to swirl together like melting ice cream.

Loren thought it was starting to look like some kind of abstract painting, even the sky seemed to be mixed all together. In fact, it looked _lower_ in some places than it was in others. Though how that was possible, Loren didn't have a clue.

"Well, this is certainly unusual," to Loren even her voice was swirly, making it sound like some strange, alien music.

Elfangor did trip then, throwing Loren right off his back. Loren just managed to get her hands under her as she rolled, coming to a stop just a few feet away from where Elfangor had fallen. Loren looked over at him and had to stifle a gasp. His hooves were longer than her fingernails! No wonder he'd tripped, it could not have been easy to walk - let alone gallop - on those oversized things.

"Elfangor, are you all right?"

No, Loren, but I will be better shortly.

__

He's remarkably calm for a guy who can't walk, Loren thought appreciatively. It was good to have someone who didn't panic under pressure, even more so when you had to deal with off-the-wall situations like these. As she watched, Elfangor began to cut off the excess hoof with quick swipes of his bladed tail. It was a pretty good job for someone who had probably never had to trim his own hooves before, but as soon as he finished, his hooves had started to grow out again.

Loren looked down at her own hands, and began to wish she'd brought that pair of nail-clippers she'd seen on her desk at "home". They were still growing and had now reached a length of two inches, way longer then she'd have ever let them grow at home, in the real universe. Loren looked down at her feet, and only just stopped herself from yelling. Her toenails were so long, they had burst through the thin canvas of her shoes.


	51. Still more fighting

"What in the hell is _that_?!" Loren demanded of no one, having just caught sight of the immense, swirling tornado of matter that was at the center of their small universe.

Elfangor had seen it before her, since he was not preoccupied with the current status of his nonexistent footwear. It was big, probably bigger than some of the tornadoes that Loren had seen on those news reports from Texas. It also looked a _lot_ more solid than those tornadoes.

"Elfangor, get down!" Loren shouted, knowing that he would only be confused if she said 'duck'.

Elfangor leaped out of the way, just as what Loren could have sworn was a house went flying past them.

The Time Matrix should be in there!

__

He did not_ just say what I think he said,_ Loren thought. "In _there_?! How can we go in there? We'll be killed!"

It's the only choice we have. Either the Time Matrix is inside that vortex, or… he hesitated. Or there's nothing inside there but emptiness, and we'll both be trapped in that vortex forever.

"Nice options. And by the way, that was sarcasm."

Yes, I think I am beginning to recognize it, Elfangor said, with a sidelong smile just for Loren. Then he became serious again. We'll have to close our eyes, block out everything you see, or even think you see, and keep going forward. It is the only way we will be able to get inside.

"Hold my hand, Elfangor," Loren asked.

Elfangor closed his slender hand around Loren's, closed his eyes, and together the ran into a maelstrom of reality itself. Elfangor had not known what he would find inside the vortex, but he had long since given up trying to predict what would happen next. From the moment the captain had called him to the bridge of the _StarSword_, everything had been a surprise.

When they first came to the vortex, it was as if something was holding them back, but the two of them were not going to give up so soon. Elfangor and Loren pushed forward relentlessly, and finally made it past the barrier. The gale-force wind no longer held them back, and instead they were pulled deeper into the swirling column of matter. What had seemed solid from the outside instead passed through them as they went deeper still.

At last, the storm abated, or else they had arrived at the eye of the storm. When Loren and Elfangor opened their eyes, they saw that they now stood on a flat, featureless plain. They couldn't see the sky beyond the howling wind, and the ground didn't have a single scrap of vegetation. For that matter, the landscape itself looked like an old fuzzy photograph. There were no details at all, at least not that either of them could see.

"The eye of the storm," Loren muttered. Elfangor wondered what she was talking about, but then decided not to ask.

Sitting unobtrusively amid all the chaos swirling around outside, was the off-white spheroid form of the Time Matrix. It was at the center of this patchwork universe, as well as the only way out.

We did it, Elfangor marveled. The Time Matrix, it _is_ here.

"Okay, that's good. But what do we do now? Look at my hair, your hooves, look at my fingernails. The time distortion is really strong here, this close to the Matrix."

Yes, I know. But we'll both be fine once we make contact with the Matrix and leave this universe.

That was when Loren noticed the head starting to peek through the wall of the vortex. Elfangor saw it a few seconds after her, and they both watched as an arm and shoulder pushed in a second after.

"It's him!"

***

It had taken Visser Thirty-two a bit longer than he would have preferred to find the center of their universe. Though he had admittedly been a bit off-balance from the words that his recreation of the Navari had said to him. The Visser pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

The Navari's body had vanished without a trace, once it had merely come in contact with the vortex of matter at the center of their jointly created universe. In a way, Visser Thirty-two was glad that this had happened, since he no longer had to deal with a pale copy of the creature that had fascinated him. But in another way, the Visser was sad to know that he would probably never see that powerful and engaging creature ever again.

As he finally pushed his way through the inner wall of the vortex, the Visser heard someone call out. It sounded like a female, and since the only female here was the one traveling with Elfangor, he knew it must have been her.

***

Elfangor and Loren both glared hard at Visser Thirty-two once he had come all the way into the eye of the storm. Either the Visser didn't notice, or he just didn't care. Loren was willing to bet that it was the latter, since he had never seemed to show any reaction to them other than amusement or subtle annoyance. But now he actually seemed… surprised.

What? The Andalite child and his pet, still alive?

Yes, still alive, Elfangor spat, narrowing his eyes.

Four Mortrons came into the eye right behind him. They seemed a bit tiered, so maybe he'd just figured out about the universe and come barreling in here to try and stop them from leaving. The Visser himself was looking around the expanse of the eye, like he wanted to find something to use against them.

"Elfangor," Loren said in a low voice, so as not to attract Visser Thirty-two's attention.

Elfangor turned his left stalk eye to look at her, and was hard pressed not to yelp. Her fingernails were four inches long by now, making her hands look like inhuman claws. Her hair was piling up around her feet, and her toenails were just as long as her fingernails.

Stand perfectly still, Elfangor advised her, cocking back his tail and preparing to strike. Hold out your hands, and don't move them.

SLICE! SLICE! SLICE! SLICE!

Four quick cuts, and most of the extra fingernail fell to the ground, only to start growing again. Elfangor did this job with his stalk eyes, making sure to keep his main eyes on Visser Thirty-two, in case he should make any sudden moves. It didn't seem like he would, though, the Visser seemed much more interested in watching Elfangor. Sizing him up.

So. I suppose we will have to agree to work together again.

The exact same thing would happen, Elfangor said crossing his arms, a mannerism he'd adopted from Loren. Another compromised universe, no better than this one. But this time, we would all be sure to bring allies and weapons from our memories.

At least then we would have a fair fight, The Visser said offhandedly, shrugging.

"He doesn't want to fight you one-on-one," Loren said, putting her hands back down at her sides.

No. He would rather have a host of allies and weapons to back him up.

Loren shook her head, causing the massive pile of her hair to ripple with the motion. "It's not that. Well, it is, but that's not all of the reason. He's afraid to fight you Elfangor, I saw it in his eyes."

Elfangor looked at Loren, then back at Visser Thirty-two. What Loren was saying was impossible to believe, she was fond of him, and was therefore assuming that he was the better fighter. But Visser Thirty-two possessed the body of Alloran, Alloran was a War-Prince, and quite a seasoned fighter. Elfangor knew that Alloran was both stronger and faster than he was.

"He _is_ afraid, Elfangor," Loren pressed.

Afraid of _what_? This Andalite child? My Mortrons and I will annihilate him!

***

Visser Thirty-two did not know why the Navari had disappeared upon touching the outer wall of the vortex and his Mortrons had not, but now he was going to take advantage of that fact. He almost didn't notice the fact that Elfangor's human pet was speaking to him.

***

"Really?" Loren needled, wanting to see just how far she could push the arrogant Yeerk. "So why not just do it? Why talk about working together?" Loren turned to Elfangor. "Alloran saw you tail-fight, didn't he? So that knowledge is in Visser Thirty-two now, am I right? That's why he's scared, he knows if he challenges you, he's going to get his butt kicked."

I'll make sure to kill you slowly, human, Visser Thirty-two hissed, knowing from his time inside the head of the other human, Chapman, what that particular expression meant. He turned slightly, directing his next order to Jarex and Larex, as well as their two nameless twins. Kill them!

The four Mortrons spun their wheels and came charging at the two of them. Visser Thirty-two, not one to be left out of such an attack, came galloping right in behind them. Elfangor stood his ground, while Loren took a relaxed but ready stance, neither of them was going to back down. Elfangor tried to remember what his combat instructor, Sofor-Ahalan-Dovaren, had taught him about tail-fighting, but for the life of him he couldn't. All he could think was that it had finally come down to a fight that was just between the two of them, the Mortrons almost secondary compared to that fact.

The Mortrons launched their avian portions, intending to slice Elfangor to bits with their sharp beaks. Elfangor knew by now that he could not simply cut them to pieces and be done with it, since they would regenerate as quickly as he could kill them. One of the bird Mortrons dived at him, Elfangor swatted it aside with the flat of his tail-blade knocking it rolling and tumbling across the plain. There it lay, unconscious.

Two of the other bird Mortrons were attacking Loren, Loren swung her bat like a sword, but missed. Loosing her grip on the bat, Loren stumbled when one of the attacking Mortron birds slapped her upside the head with its wings. Elfangor didn't have time to worry about Loren, though, as both Mortron bird and Yeerk Visser attacked him at once.

Elfangor was slashed at by both a Mortron bird's beak and an Andalite-Controller's tail-blade. He managed to block the Visser's blade, but not the Mortron's sharp beak. The alien bird's strike ripped a gash in his left stalk-eye, not deep, but bleeding rather enthusiastically.

The Visser was not one to give up after a single blow, and his swift tail came slicing at Elfangor again. Elfangor tried to block as he had done before, but his aim was thrown off by the attacking Mortron slashing at him.

"Oh no you don't, you leather-winged freak!"

Loren had been cut by one of the Mortron birds circling her, but Elfangor knew that if he tried to help her, he would only succeed in getting himself killed by Visser Thirty-two. Elfangor cocked his tail, hoping that Loren could somehow defend herself from the circling Mortrons. Taking advantage of Elfangor's momentary distraction, Visser Thirty-two struck at him again. This time managing to wound the annoying young Andalite.

Satisfied with his first effort, the Visser struck again. This time Elfangor just managed to parry the Andalite-Controller's tail blade.

Ahh, not so fast now, are you Elfangor? Visser Thirty-two taunted.

Elfangor tried to ignore him, but the Visser's words had more of an effect on him than Elfangor would have liked to admit. Elfangor began to wonder if this entire battle was hopeless. Loren had probably already been killed by the Visser's 'pets'. But then, through his right stalk eye, Elfangor saw something that gave him new hope. It was Loren! She was not dead after all! Indeed, she was making sport of the Mortrons.

The one that had been flying closest to her was now probably regretting it, if Mortrons even possessed that capacity. She had her hands around its throat and was strangling the life out of the creature. The other one had somehow gotten all tangled up in Loren's massive pile of golden hair.

This fight isn't over yet, Visser!

Elfangor lashed out again with his tail; the Visser managed to block the first strike, but not the second. Elfangor resisted the urge to taunt his adversary, just as one of the circling Mortrons bit him, cutting open his right rear haunch.

Elfangor turned his stalk eyes to check on Loren, and caught sight of something that frightened him: Loren's hands were still wrapped around the Mortron's neck, but what was frightening was the fact that her fingernails were growing directly into the Mortron's throat. Elfangor had no more time to think about this rather unsettling development, however, as the Visser's tail blade arced toward his face. Elfangor parried the blow more skillfully than he had the last time, turning his parry into a forward thrust.

Yes! Elfangor exulted, watching his blade sank into the Visser's left arm.

Visser Thirty-two sneered, lashing out with his tail as his pet swooped around to strike at Elfangor again. The Mortron was aimed straight at him, and would have pierced Elfangor's face if it had connected. The Mortron circled back around, and the Visser struck at the same time. Elfangor drew back his tail and prepared to strike, but even as he did, he knew that he would only be able to block one of the strikes.

Whichever one made it through, though, would kill him. Elfangor knew this, but he was determined to die fighting. He was so focused on his battle with the Visser that he almost missed the flash of _something _seen out of the corner of his right stalk eye. It wasn't moving that fast, at least not by Andalite standards, but the flying object did what it was intended to.

The flying object was the carcass of the Mortron Loren had strangled, it hit the Mortron that was attacking Elfangor and knocked it out of the air. Loren grinned at him, and Elfangor ignored her bloody, clawlike fingernails. After all, those natural weapons had probably helped to save her life.

"I love softball!" Loren exulted, jumping up and clapping her hands.

Elfangor knocked the Visser's tail blade aside with his own, but the Andalite-Controller came within a centimeter of cutting Elfangor's face. Sweeping her softball bat up with a casual scoop, Loren advanced on the downed Mortron that was still tangled in her hair. It was starting to hurt, but she supposed it was better having it there then to have it flying around attacking her.

__

Or Elfangor, she thought with a halfsmile. Smashing the alien bird's skull with her bat, Loren sliced off the hair that was tangled up with it using her extra-long fingernails. Elfangor smiled as he watched her work, thinking that he could definitely start to like humans. At first, Loren's species had seemed ridiculously weak and primitive, wobbling around on two legs, and forced to rely on spoken words to communicate.

But humans definitely had some redeeming qualities. _Especially Loren,_ Elfangor thought to himself.

Nice throw, Elfangor commented aloud in thought-speak.

"It's called a pitch," Loren corrected, then she smiled. "Thanks."

Your Mortrons are done for, Visser, Elfangor said, trying to resist the urge to taunt the Yeerk. Now it's just you and me, tail-to-tail.

A look of utter hatred settled on the Visser's Andalite face.

Do you think you've won, Elfangor the Andalite? You think that you can kill me now? Visser Thirty-two sneered, chuckling coldly. Then you haven't thought very hard. But, then again I _do_ have the advantage of adding all of Alloran's accumulated knowledge to my own.

"Oh, _what_ are you blathering about now?" Loren cut in impatiently, rolling her eyes at the pompous Yeerk.

Visser Thirty-two raked her with a venomous glare, and Loren stuck her tongue out at him.

As I was saying, what do you think will happen to you if you're still here when I die, _Elfangor_?

Loren bit back a laugh; Slug-boy was making it very clear that he did _not_ want to speak with her. Loren wondered if she should answer anyway, just to piss him off a bit more. But she decided not to, since antagonizing the guy any further might delay her return to Earth. And besides, she wanted to hear what Elfangor had to say.

Elfangor, for his part, was unsure of what answer to give. He had to struggle to piece together bits of observation with what he had learned back at the Academy, and that seemed so long ago.

What, are the concepts too hard for you to grasp? Visser Thirty-two asked condescendingly. A collapsed timeline will return each of us to our proper spacetime location.

So, you would end up back aboard the _Jahar_? Back to being sucked into a stellar-mass black hole? I could live with that, Visser. I don't particularly care _how_ you die, quickly from my tail blade, or slowly in the grip of that black hole. I just want you to die. You are an unnatural abomination, Visser. The first Andalite-Controller. I just want to make sure you are the _last_.

"I told you he was scared to fight you," Loren said, loud enough that Visser Thirty-two could hear her as well as Elfangor.

I guess you were right.

The Visser was hesitating, Elfangor could see it in his main eyes. Elfangor knew in his hearts that Visser Thirty-two would walk away.

The day will come, Elfangor the Andalite, when I will kill you, the Visser hissed. I will make it personal then, Andalite. I will make it _very_ personal.


	52. Homecoming

He turned away, before Elfangor could think up a response, and disappeared through the wall of the vortex.

"Well, that's the end of him."

No. Somehow, I doubt that very much, Elfangor said, unsure of why he didn't believe the Visser would never fulfill his threat.

He did not believe in supernatural things, so he would never call what he had just experienced a premonition. But Elfangor _knew_ somehow that he would be seeing Visser Thirty-two again someday.

"So now what? We have to get out of here, that much is blatantly obvious. My hair is still growing, my fingernails are way out of control, and I feel like I'm getting… older. My -" Loren felt her cheeks get hot, and decided to skip explaining _that_ particular thing to Elfangor. He was an alien, and a _guy_ on top of that. "Well, I'm getting older, let's leave it at that. But I swear I'm suddenly eighteen!"

Yes. Your face is changing. I feel my own body changing as well. We must leave this place, but we can't simply create another combined universe. We have to go somewhere that is a part of the real universe, so there can be only one of us directing the Time Matrix.

"So where are we going? Back to the Andalite planet?"

No. What would I do if I went back to my own people? I disobeyed a direct order from War-Prince Alloran. I left Arbron behind to live as a Taxxon. And I know too many secrets now. I know that Alloran _did_ use a Quantum virus on the Hork-Bajir world. What else might they do if they suddenly found themselves in possession of the Time Matrix?

"Oh. I see what you're getting at. Even good people do bad things when they get desperate enough."

If we use the Time Matrix to win this war, we will no longer be Andalites. Not what I think of as Andalites, anyway. We will have to win this war by being true to our customs of decency and honor, not by becoming as brutal and ruthless as the Yeerks.

"I see. What's the point of winning, if you lose what you were fighting for in the first place?"

Yes. Now you see why I cannot let my people have the Time Matrix. I also can't let it fall into the grasp of the Yeerks. I will have to hide it, since it cannot be destroyed.

"You're going to hide it on Earth, aren't you?" Loren asked rhetorically.

Yes. And this time, no nosy, greedy Skrit Na will stumble across it, Elfangor said with determination.

"All right, then I suppose I'd better get to work," Loren said with a smile. "What do you want me to do?"

Picture your Earth, your home. Fix your mind on every detail. Your mother. Your hollow house. Your friends. Imagine the time just after the Skrit Na captured you. An hour afterward, I think.

"That was what? A week ago? Did all of this happen in just a week?"

Yes. Only a week. We would need to go back in time, before your mother would have noticed that you were gone, but not before the Skrit Na captured you. We would risk undoing this entire timeline if we did.

"Maybe we _should _just undo this timeline. We could save Arbron. Save Alloran."

And have the two of us never meet?

Loren blinked, having failed to consider that particular consequence. "I didn't think of that," she said, chagrined. "I wouldn't want that to happen."

I wouldn't want it to happen either. But, more importantly, we don't know what the result of rewriting such a span of time would be. It may mean that the Skrit Na get away with the Time Matrix, and end up delivering it to the Yeerks. But, as long as the you from this point in time does not encounter another _you_, we should be fine.

"There's just one problem. This me has aged. I'm older than I was when I left. People are going to notice that I'm suddenly two years older."

Yes, they would. But imagine that they don't. Imagine that everyone you know and everyone who knows you expects you to be eighteen.

"Is this really going to work?"

I don't know. I hope so, but nothing else that I've tried seems to be working.

"Okay. Then let me take care of driving the Time Matrix," Loren said with a soft, sweet smile.

Loren put her hands on the Time Matrix, closing her eyes as she concentrated on her memories of her home, her friends, her mom, and the woods where she had been walking when the Skrit Na had swept down out of the sky and kidnapped her. Elfangor watched as the walls of the vortex grew more solid looking and images appeared. He had not seen the real Earth in this strange place, but he already felt as if the planet was his home.

As the walls closed tighter and tighter, Elfangor briefly wondered what Loren's real mother was like…

Then, all of a sudden, there they were. Loren took a long, deep breath. _God, I've missed this place, _she thought.There was just something about forest air that made you feel like you were really _breathing_, or at least that was what Loren thought. Elfangor, meanwhile, was wondering what to do with the Time Matrix.

They would have to hide it, but there was still the problem of just _where_ to hide it. Where could they hide the Time Matrix so that it would not be found, especially by the Skrit Na, who were experts at finding things that you didn't want them to? Elfangor looked over at Loren, to ask her where she thought they should hide the Time Matrix, but she seemed to be enjoying herself so much that Elfangor didn't want to disturb her.


	53. Life on Earth

Loren grinned, picking up a handful of leaves and throwing them in the air. Watching the leaves flutter back to the ground, Loren got a sudden burst of mischievous inspiration. Giggling, Loren scooped up another handful of leaves and held them behind her back. Walking back over to Elfangor, Loren smothered her giggles with some effort.

"Hey Elfangor!"

Yes, Loren? Elfangor turned to look at her and saw that she was smiling brightly. Elfangor wondered if he should ask her now.

"Catch!" Loren shouted, flinging her handful of leaves at him.

What? Elfangor, caught by surprise, barely had time to register the fact that there were about thirty or so small objects flying at him, before they hit.

Grabbing one, Elfangor saw that it was a dead leaf. Why would Loren be throwing dead leaves at him? Before Elfangor could begin to wonder about the reason, he was hit by another handful of dead leaves. Watching as Loren giggled and bent to scoop up another handful of dead leaves, Elfangor realized that she was just happy to be home. He could recall doing some pretty silly things himself when he'd been young and happy.

Elfangor decided that it couldn't hurt to play with Loren for a little while, since she would probably lose interest in the game if given enough time. Bending awkwardly, Elfangor scooped up a handful of dead leaves and throwing them back at Loren. Most of them missed, since Andalite hands weren't really suited for throwing.

Loren laughed anyway, loving the feel of being back on her own native soil. _Be it ever so humble…_ Loren chuckled,_ You know, I never thought I'd be quoting some old song in my head. Oh well, I guess homesickness does funny things to your head._ Out of the corner of her left eye, Loren saw Elfangor getting ready to throw another handful of leaves at her._ Well, try to at least._

Loren had seen Elfangor throw before, most of the leaves had gone way wide, leaving only a few to land at her feet. Apparently, Andalite hands weren't much good when it came to throwing stuff. That was really too bad, for him. Loren grinned, scooping up some more leaves and throwing them at Elfangor.

Elfangor dodged, and most of Loren's leaves went flying over his back. Now Elfangor was getting into the game, pelting Loren with as many dead leaves as his weaker hands could gather. They were both laughing, running around and pelting the other with as many leaves as they could get. Elfangor's aim was even starting to improve somewhat.

At last, Loren got tired of the game and plopped down on the leaf-strewn ground to rest. She was exhausted, but it was a happy kind of exhausted. Elfangor looked like he felt the same way, since he was smiling at her with those deep green eyes. Loren always felt warm inside whenever he looked at her like that.

"So," Loren began, jerking her thumb back at the Time Matrix. "What do we do with that thing?"

That is the question I was going to ask you, Loren.

"Well, what can you think of to do with it?"

I… was thinking that we could bury it somewhere. Like those other humans did in that desert area. Without the giant pyramid over it, of course.

"This thing was buried in Egypt?"

Is that what the desolate, sandy area with the giant pyramids is called?

"Yeah."

Then, yes. The Time Matrix was buried in Egypt.

"Wow. You think you know a place… Well then, let's get burying, shall we?"

Yes, Elfangor agreed, long since accustomed to the fact that Loren liked to talk to herself.

They walked back to the Time Matrix, and Loren began to wonder just how long it would take them to dig a hole deep enough to bury a ten-foot tall sphere when neither of them had any tools. _Well, we'll find a way._

"How about we put it over by those trees?" Loren asked, pointing to a small stand of young oaks that would obscure the area from above.

Yes, that would work. But it would be better if we were to dig the hole before we moved the Time Matrix.

"That was just what I was hoping you _wouldn't _say."

Why?

"Because, the only things I have to dig with are my hands. And I don't think your hands would do much good here."

Elfangor looked at his slender, seven-fingered hands. He had to admit that Loren was right; his hands were several times weaker than hers.

What do you think we should do?

"I think we should hide it in those trees. Then we should go get some shovels from my mom. She'll understand if we ask her to keep the Time Matrix a secret, and she'll probably want to help us bury it."

That might work. But Loren, are you sure that you want to tell her about the Time Matrix?

"Don't worry, Elfangor. Mom won't tell a soul if we tell her what it can be used for. She isn't too fond of weapons."

Oh.

There wasn't really much that Elfangor thought he could say beyond that, and so they proceeded to roll the Time Matrix under the minor protection of the oaks' thick canopy of leaves. Both careful to keep their minds as blank as possible, since they didn't want to somehow activate the thing again.

After they had finished with this rather awkward task, Elfangor and Loren rested for a few minutes before setting off for Loren's home. Loren was glad that she had made plans with her mom to be picked up after she had finished her walk in the woods. Then, Loren remembered that she had a rather large alien with her.

She smiled. _I'm sure mom will like him just as much as I do when she meets him. He's… he's really easy to get along with._ Loren came up beside Elfangor and put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently as she walked. After what seemed like a long time, they came to the edge of the forest.

They got there just in time to see Maureen's car pulling into the parking lot that formed both the end and the beginning of this particular hiking trail. Maureen coasted to a stop as close to the edge of the hiking trail as she could get, coming out of her car to meet Loren halfway.

Loren waved to her mother, as Maureen hugged her close.

"Hey, Loren! How's my favorite little girl?"

"Mo-om," Loren said, smiling with mock exasperation in her voice. "I happen to be your only little girl."

Maureen grinned, giving Loren a quick, sideways hug and ruffling her hair. That was when she caught sight of Elfangor, Maureen's eyes widened, knowing that he definitely wasn't from Earth.

"Loren? Is - is that an alien?"

"Mom, this is Elfangor. He's my friend. And yes, he's also an alien."

Maureen smiled kindly, reaching out a hand to touch Elfangor's left shoulder.

"Well, Elfangor, it's an honor to meet you."

It is also an honor to meet you, Loren's mother.

Maureen chuckled softly. "Well, I am Loren's mother. But my name is Maureen Abernathy."

Then, it is an honor to meet you, Maureen Abernathy.

"Thank you, Elfangor," Maureen said, turning back to Loren. "So, how come you never told me you've been hanging out with aliens?" She asked teasingly.

"Cause I only met him an hour ago," Loren teased.

She had almost said that she met Elfangor last week, but that would have taken too long to explain. And, they still had the Time Matrix to deal with.

"Mom, how about we talk about this on the way home?"

"All right, Loren, but how is Elfangor going to fit in the car?"

They were walking as they talked, and by now they had reached Maureen's silver-blue Toyota Sienna. It was a four-door, but there was no way it was going to fit even a half-grown Andalite like Elfangor.

"Oh," Loren sighed, putting her hand on her chin in a typical thinking pose. "That _is_ going to be a problem."

It will not be any problem, Loren. I will be able to manage.

"How?" Maureen asked bluntly. "Is there some way you can shrink to fit in the back?"

Simply put, yes.

"All right then," Loren said, not sure if she believed him or not. "Let's go home."

__

Home. That word had a new meaning for Elfangor now. It had once referred to the Andalite world, but now that he had decided to stay with Loren, _home_ meant wherever Loren stayed. Elfangor started to morph the Kafit bird, since it was the smallest morph he had. As he lost his fur and gained feathers, Elfangor couldn't help but shoot a look over his quickly shrinking shoulder.

Both Loren and Maureen were staring at him with nearly identical expressions of shock. But they didn't seem to be disgusted or frightened by the transformation, even though Elfangor knew that he was not an _estreen_ by any stretch of the imagination. Once he was finished, Loren swept him up and cradled him in her strong human arms.

"That was completely amazing, Elfangor," Loren said, gently kissing the top of the six-winged bird's head.

Thank you, Loren.

"How did you do that?" Maureen asked.

It is a technology that we Andalites have developed.

"Wow. So, you Andalites can shape-shift into anything you want to?"

Almost. We can become any creature whose DNA pattern we sample through physical contact. The process itself is referred to as morphing.

"Morphing, huh? That sounds interesting. Does it hurt?"

Not at all. But, there are times that it is quite… disconcerting.

"Well, I'd expect that, since you _do_ have to do some pretty drastic shape-shifting to get from being a big Andalite to being a little bird. Could anyone do it?"

When Maureen asked him that, Elfangor was faced with a bit of a dilemma. To reveal anything more might constitute a violation of the law of _Seerow's Kindness_. But, since Elfangor no longer considered himself a member of the Andalite species, and taking into account the fact that as soon as he was able he would abandon his Andalite body, perhaps that did not matter anymore.

It is possible to transfer the technology to a person that doesn't possess it. But no Andalite has ever done that before.

"Why not?" Loren asked, speaking up for the first time since they had gotten in the car.

It is against one of our laws to transfer technology to other species.

"Why is that?" Maureen asked.

Because once, long ago, we gave our technology and with it our trust to another species. They betrayed that trust, and since that time we have never trusted another species with our knowledge or our science.

"That's too bad," Maureen said.

The rest of the trip was in silence, as the three inside the car all sat and mulled over the turns that this day had taken. Loren, for her part, had never thought when she woke up in the morning - a few hours or seven days ago, depending on how you looked at it - that she would have fallen so hard for an alien, or would end up two years older than she had been when she had started her hike.

Elfangor was wondering just how long the trip to Loren's house would take, since he did not want to end up trapped in his morph as a Kafit bird. The back of Maureen's car was not large enough to hold an Andalite in any kind of comfort, but after two hours he would be forced to demorph, room or no room.

Maureen was just glad to on her way home, since she was eager to sit down and have a long talk with her daughter and Elfangor about their adventures. She got the feeling that they hadn't told her everything there was to know about what had happened. Which was understandable, since Loren was obviously very eager to get back home.

Once they had arrived at the Abernathy residence, Maureen made sure that the garage door was securely closed behind them. Elfangor was already starting to demorph, even though he had at least thirty minutes left on his two hour deadline. Loren was checking to make sure that nobody was in the kitchen, since it was directly connected to the garage through the side door.

Once she knew that the kitchen was completely empty, Loren came back into the garage.

"It's all clear. Dad either hasn't gotten home yet, or he's off somewhere else."

"Good," Maureen said.

It wasn't that John Abernathy was a bad man, or closed-minded. It was just that neither of them wanted to dump the fact that they were bringing a real, live alien home on him. He was still a little shaken from being in the war, and they didn't know how he would react to something this strange.

I will need to acquire a human morph if I am going to stay here.

Maureen nodded, since she knew that it would be easier to hide the fact that they had an Andalite in the house if he could become human whenever he wanted to. Loren led Elfangor though the kitchen, which Elfangor recalled from Loren's time in the universe that they had created with the Time Matrix.

There, Loren had been confused and afraid, but now she was calm and confident. Elfangor marveled at the change, but he was not as surprised as he would have been if he had not known Loren for a week. Humans seemed to be a remarkably adaptable species, given how readily Loren's mother accepted his presence.

When Elfangor came to the stairs, he shook his head. He would never understand the human fascination with squares and rectangular objects. Or maybe he would, considering that he was going to spend the rest of his life as a human. Either way, he would enjoy learning about Loren's species as he spent time with her.


	54. Leaving Home

****

Three Years Later…

Alan Fangor, known as 'Al' to his friends and Elfangor to Loren, walked home with a contented smile on his face. He had married Loren as soon as the laws of her species would permit him to. He had gone to a standard college and a university. The classes were almost mind-numbingly easy for him, of course, but it was still a chance to spend time with Loren.

They had settled in a smaller suburb of the state where Loren and her parents lived, a place called California. Alan had gotten used to not being able to see behind himself, mostly. He still tended to whip around fast when someone came up behind him.

He sometimes missed his tail, since humans didn't possess any particularly dangerous natural weapons. Although, fists and feet could be quite painful if used properly, as his fellow Karate student had demonstrated. Alan liked learning Karate, since it amazed him that a creature that looked so unsteady could perform those kinds of precision moves.

The human he was closest to in his Karate class was a man about his age, who was a first degree Black belt. Alan himself was only a Yellow belt, but Grant didn't look down on him for his lesser skills. That was his name, Grant Goddard, who often joked that he was related to Robert Goddard.

For all Alan knew, he was.

As he came up the path to his and Loren's shared house, Alan reflected on a rather unsettling occurrence that had happened about eleven months ago. Hedrick Chapman, who Alan had assumed was dead since he had been aboard the _Jahar_ when it had been sucked into the black hole, had been attending college with Loren and himself.

Alan hadn't quite believed it was him at first, but then he had turned toward them. Alan had recognized him then, since they had spent two and a half days together on a somewhat crowded spacecraft. Chapman, for his part, didn't recognize either of them. Loren had even asked him, purely for a laugh, if he had heard from his old friend Visser Thirty-two lately. There had been not even the slightest sign of comprehension on Chapman's face after she had asked.

Alan tried not to worry himself too much about that. But, he was also a bit apprehensive of a creature that could rewrite someone's memory like that. Since the only race he knew of that could do that were the Ellimists. He had often tried to tell himself that Chapman had a twin, or that it was some as-yet-unknown aspect of black hole physics.

But, deep in his single heart, Alan didn't quite believe any of the theories he had come up with. He knew, somehow, that he would someday have to come face-to-face with the Ellimist. He had no way of knowing that today was that day.

As his palm touched the knob of his front door, Alan was struck with a feeling of deep foreboding. Alan tried to tell himself to calm down, that there was no way that anyone could have gotten into his house without a key. And, only he and Loren had keys to the house. But the feeling didn't go away.

If anything, it seemed to intensify as he came inside. It was probably only because Loren had gone off to see the doctor, he told himself. After all, human medical science was several centuries behind the rest of the galaxy. But, he still couldn't get the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach to go away.

That was when he noticed the other person in the living room. He was human, or at least he seemed to be. Gray hair, gray eyes, and an unnaturally pale complexion, as well as the fact that there was no sign of forced entry, tipped Alan off that he was something else.

"Yes, Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul. I'm no more human than you are."

__

What?! "My name is Alan Fangor. And what are _you_ doing in my house? For that matter, who _are_ you?"

"You know that, or at least you think you do."

"The Ellimist?"

"Yes, or at least, _an_ Ellimist."

Alan turned away from the Ellimist. "I saw you," he muttered. "When I first used the Time Matrix."

The Ellimist came over and put his hand on Alan's right shoulder, then gently turned him so that they were facing each other again.

"What do you want with me?" Alan asked, knowing that the Ellimist wouldn't have appeared in his house, in his living room no less, unless there was something that the Ellimist wanted from him.

"That is not the issue her, Elfangor. The real question is, what do _you_ want?"

Alan's head snapped up, locking eyes with the Ellimist's human form. What did _he_ want? That wasn't even a question worth considering.

"You _know_ what I want, Ellimist."

The Ellimist, that mighty creature from a race that could alter the fabric of spacetime just by thinking about it, smiled.

"Would that be the same thing you wanted when you, Loren and Visser Three made a universe together?"

"Visser _Three_?"

"Yes, your old friend Visser Thirty-two has been promoted."

"He should be _dead_!"

"_Should_ be dead? Do you honestly think you can play games with the fabric of time? Do you think that you can twist and break one thread, and that it will not have unforeseen consequences in a thousand other times and places? Are you so naïve, Elfangor, that you don't see that the past is not a simple progression of events, but the interaction of an uncountable number of beings?"

"The Visser, he's still alive?"

"Yes, the Visser is still alive," the Ellimist sighed. "Visser Three still inhabits Alloran's body."

At that moment, the walls and ceiling of Alan's house seemed to vanish entirely. What he saw instead was the clear blue sky of his adopted homeworld. Just as Alan was starting to enjoy the view, a bright flash of sunlight on sharp metal split the air. Alan jumped backwards, blinking as he was suddenly back in his home.

"What did you see?" the Ellimist asked, seeming to know that Alan had seen _something._

"I… I don't know."

"Look again…"

And suddenly Elfangor was back outside again. This time, when he saw the flash, Alan managed to stand his ground. Without a sound, but Alan suspected that if there _had_ been one it would have been loud, the metal object was blocked by something that looked like half of a silver spear. There was a sharp, jagged serration on both sides of the spear. Holding it was something that looked robotic. The metal was white, and the hand wrapped around the shaft of the spear was black.

Alan was back in his house in less time than it took to blink, and he wondered if he had ever really left.

"What did you see?" the Ellimist asked again.

__

White metal, black metal, green eyes. "What was that?" Alan asked, not knowing what else to say.

"It was the future," the Ellimist said solemnly, pinning Alan with his calm gray-eyed gaze.

"That didn't look like Visser Three."

"No. The Yeerk called Visser Three _is_ a terrible enemy to your people. But he is not the only one."

Alan shook his head, still wanting to deny the Ellimist's words. "The humans are my people now."

"Really? Even humans like Hedrick Chapman? The man who first told the Yeerks about the human species?"

"You. It was _you_ who brought Chapman back to Earth. You erased his memories."

"I merely corrected an error in the spacetime continuum. Chapman still has a part to play in future events."

"I don't care anymore," Alan spat, angry that the Ellimist was playing games with him. "I don't care about wars in far-off space."

"Far-off? Elfangor, do you really assume that you are safe? Do you honestly think that the Yeerks will never come to this planet, knowing that there are so many potential hosts?"

Alan felt his throat start to close up. He knew, he knew that he would probably never be safe anywhere, after the things he had seen and done. But Alan had wanted to believe that he and Loren could have a normal life among these humans.

"Will they come here?"

"Elfangor, the first Yeerk advance-scouts are in low-earth orbit even now. And there is another threat, maybe even greater than the Yeerks."

"What?"

The Ellimist shook his head. "That is not for me to say. But, if you decide to return to your place in the universe, there is a chance that this threat too, could be countered."

Alan grabbed his short-cropped, midbrown hair and pulled, hard. He did _not_ want to go back into that war. Not when he had failed so deeply the last time he had tried.

"There's nothing I can do," Alan said, lowering his eyes and letting go of his hair. "I tried my hand at being a hero. I failed."

"You failed? You kept the Time Matrix from falling into the hands of either side, Yeerk or Andalite. You saved the galaxy."

"I failed to save Arbron. I was too late to save Alloran," Alan said, beginning the litany that he often repeated inside the privacy of his mind. "I helped to _destroy_ Alloran, by delivering him to the Yeerks. I abandoned Arbron to live as a Taxxon. I was unable to kill Alloran once he became Visser Thirty-two. I was weak. I was a fool."

"You refused to slaughter defenseless prisoners. You refused to compromise your integrity to win a battle. You are wise, for a primitive creature. But you have also altered the flow of time when you used the Time Matrix. And that has created many problems. For _both _your peoples. Your peoples need you now, Elfangor."

Alan barked a laugh. "Need_ me_? No one needs me, Ellimist."

"You are not _where_ you are supposed to be, and you are not _when_ you are supposed to be."

"The galaxy will have to get along without me," Alan said, crossing his arms, thinking that that had ended the discussion.

The Ellimist shook his head, stepping closer to Elfangor. Staring into the transformed Andalite's eyes, the Ellimist leaned forward so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Elfangor. "No, it won't," he said with deadly certainty.

"What the hell do you want with me?!" Alan demanded, enraged at being manipulated.

"We want nothing."

"Liar! Why are you here if you don't want anything?!"

"We do not interfere in the affairs of other species."

"Then go away! Get the hell out of my house! Leave me and Loren in peace!" Alan turned away, disgusted and angry.

"We do not interfere with other species, but sometimes we repair what has been shattered."

Alan spun around to face the Ellimist again, pinning the other with a glare that could have frozen boiling water. _What in the hell does this interloping bastard want with me?!_ Alan thought venomously.

"Want? I don't want anything. Nor am I an interloper. But I can tell you that you have altered the flow of time. You have changed the outcome of thousands of events. What should be safe is now in danger, battles are lost that should have been won."

"I can't go back," Alan said, his voice starting to sound like he was pleading for mercy. "I have a wife, I have a home here on Earth. I'm not an Andalite; I'm not Elfangor anymore. My name is Alan, and I'm human."

"Your life, your place in human society, and even your place here on Earth are all a product of your tampering. The human woman named Loren was meant to marry a human. You yourself were meant to be a warrior, a hero and a mentor to your brother."

"I have a brother?" Alan asked, surprised. "He was born? I know my family had been preparing…"

"In this broken timeline? No. But you _should_ have had a brother. He has an important task to fulfill. As does someone else, someone you don't even know exists yet. As does another you have only heard second-hand accounts of. Elfangor, without you, both of your peoples will be slaves."

Alan was about to ask what exactly they would be slaves to, since he had a feeling that the Ellimist was not referring to the Yeerks, when he saw… it. At first he thought his vision had gone black for some reason, but Alan realized that he could still see _something_, he just didn't know what it was. Finally, Alan started to make out details. Whatever it was, it seemed to be wearing a kind of black armor that Alan had never seen before.

Just before his sight returned, Alan saw a pair of bright red eyes flash at him. For some reason this unnerved him, though Alan had seen stranger things on his journeys through space. This creature seemed… wrong, somehow. Alan shook his head as his vision cleared; he didn't have time to think about things that made no sense.

"You're lying, manipulating me. Trying to get me to agree, to let you use me," Alan said flatly, not sure if he really believed that anymore.

"We do not use. We do not interfere. But, if you asked me to undo the damage that you have done… To repair the timeline so that you can return to your destiny… that, and only that, I could do."

Alan's fists clenched, he wanted so much to demonstrate his newly acquired martial arts skills on the Ellimist. He was sorely tempted to forget about his sensei's teachings that martial artists were never to be the aggressors and beat the Ellimist into submission. Alan took a deep breath, using the techniques that Grant had taught him to calm himself down.

"There is a battle, Elfangor," the Ellimist continued, waiting until the Andalite_ nothlit_ was calm to speak. "A turning point. Visser Three is there. You are supposed to be there, Elfangor. Right now."

"I can't leave Loren," Alan said stubbornly.

"Listen to me, Elfangor. Visser Three will come to this planet someday. He remembers her, he still remembers the way she mocked him. And Visser Three is not one to forgive easily, or ever, as you might remember," the Ellimist paused a moment to let this sink in. But, before Elfangor could speak, he continued. "Do you know what he will do to her when he comes? And will you be able to stop him, when he is surrounded by a thousand of his loyal lackeys? And you are simply a human?"

Alan felt hot tears coursing down his face, but he didn't take the time to wipe them away. It was, to him, just another reminder that he was human. Andalites couldn't cry real tears; they had no concept of the substance.

"And - and if I go back… if I ask you to repair the timeline… will it save Earth? Will it save the Andalites? And my Loren?"

"By itself alone? No. But what was once impossible will become possible again."

Something, some nagging instinct, prompted Alan to ask his next question.

"And Grant Goddard, my friend. What will happen to him?"

Alan thought that the Ellimist looked sad for a moment, but it could have been just a reflection of Alan's own deep sadness.

"Your friend has a role to play as well," and that was all he would say.

Alan looked at the Ellimist, that inscrutable creature who had the power to make entire planetary systems disappear just by wishing it. Others might see him in this form and think that he was no more that a mere human, but Alan knew the Ellimist could appear in many forms.

"What game are you really playing, Ellimist?"

"Will you take up your time cross-examining me, Elfangor the Andalite? Or will you ask me to undo the mess that you have made?"

"And, Loren… ?"

"Will never know that you existed. Nor will Grant. But you will know, you will still have all your memories."

Alan smiled, but it was a twisted, bitter parody of a real smile. He felt no happiness at this moment.

"You said something about a battle, Ellimist," Alan said, almost sneering.

"Come," the Ellimist said, ignoring Elfangor's tone and focusing on his words. "I will undo what you have done. I will repair the fabric of your fate, Elfangor."


	55. Vision

****

Somewhere… Everywhere…

Once, a long time ago, Alan - then still an Andalite named Elfangor - had tried to explain to Loren what it must be like to see the universe as the Ellimists did. He had thought he'd done a fair job of explaining something he could barely imagine. But now, now he was seeing what the Ellimists saw, and it was more than he could have ever conveyed in words.

Alan had had the barest glimpse of this when he had first used the Time Matrix, but this was a thousand times more intense. Alan could see the very timelines that represented all creatures in existence. But, more than that, he could also feel and smell and taste those timelines.

It was the strangest, most awe-inspiring thing that Alan had ever seen. He looked next at the Ellimist, seeing him for once for what he really was. The Ellimist was a vast, intricate, indescribable being made of light, and time, and space itself. He was old, but in all that time he'd still found no place in the universe. He was alone, but there seemed to be others like him. Alan could at last understand the vast power that the Ellimist possessed to be able to see and direct those threads.

But, within the sheer power that he could now sense, against what was, what might be, and what was even now happening, Alan could see the Ellimist's limits. The Ellimist was a mighty creature, but he was not as Alan had once believed, all-powerful.

Alan turned away from the Ellimist, and saw what seemed to be a window in this strange world. It was hanging in the "sky". Within the window was an image of a young Andalite.

The youngster was so much like he had been himself, a lifetime ago. So serious, so determined to prove his worth. It was his own younger brother: Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, Elfangor could hear the name in his mind._ Hello, little brother._

The scene in the window shifted, becoming Arbron. Still a Taxxon, but his voracious hunger was held in check by his remaining Andalite pride. _Hello again Arbron, you've become the hero I always wanted to be._

Another scene appeared in the window, this time of Loren and another human. They were holding each other in the way lovers did, and Alan was saddened to realize that he had been written out of her memory. _I'll miss you, Loren._

The view shifted again, this time to show Grant standing behind a pair of unfamiliar humans. Both were in their early teens, and they were sparring with each other. They were both obviously related, since they looked so much alike._ Well, Grant, it's good to see you're still keeping your skills sharp. I only wish I could still practice with you._

Alan remembered that Grant had had another friend, but Alan had always been too busy to meet him. Someone named Ulysses Carter. Alan hoped that Grant and Ulysses and whoever these two children were would be happy.

Alan looked at Loren's timeline, seeing that of the other human wrapping around it. It made him sad to know that he had been written out of her memory, and that he would be the only one to know about the good times they had had together. But then, Alan saw that his timeline still touched hers in some way. And, from those joined timelines came a third, like the newly grown stalk of a plant, just emerging.

What does that mean? Alan asked the Ellimist, surprised to discover that he was speaking in thought-speak again.

****

YOU HAVE A SON, ELFANGOR.

Alan decided that if he was really going to go back to the Andalite world, he might as well get used to people calling him Elfangor. That was when the Ellimist's words caught up to him. _What? I - I have a son? Of course! That was why Loren went to the doctor. I should have suspected!_

No! This changes everything! I have a son! Don't take me away!

****

ELFANGOR-SIRINIAL-SHAMTUL, YOU _ARE_ AWAY. THINGS ARE NOW AS THEY MUST BE. THE CHILD WILL BE RAISED AS THE SON OF ANOTHER.

But what will happen to my son? Elfangor asked. Will he, will he even exist?

The Ellimist didn't answer, and Elfangor didn't waste time asking again. Instead he looked at the timeline that represented his son; Elfangor saw it flowing off through the void. Elfangor saw that his son's life would be a hard one, not something he would wish on his only child, and that he would often be lonely. Longing for the family he had never really known.

But then, at the edge of the future that even the Ellimist couldn't see, Elfangor saw a bright flash of light. The timelines of his son, his brother, four others who he hadn't seen, and a flickering of a fifth, joined together to form a light like a small nova. Elfangor _knew_, he didn't know how he just knew, that this flash of light was the entire point of the Ellimist's so called noninterference.

So, you don't interfere in the affairs of other species, huh?

****

WAS THAT SARCASM, ELFANGOR? Then the Ellimist, and everything in this strange universe, laughed.

Is this all just a game to you? Elfangor asked.

****

YES, and the laughing universe fell silent.** BUT WE ARE NOT THE ONLY GREAT POWER IN THE UNIVERSE. THERE IS ANOTHER, OLDER EVEN THAN OURSELVES, AND HE PLAYS A DARK GAME. IT IS HIM THAT WE PLAY AGAINST, SO HOPE THAT WE WIN, ELFANGOR-SIRINIAL-SHAMTUL. HOPE THAT WE WIN.**

Elfangor watched his body, still human up to that point, twist and reshape and reform into that of an Andalite. Elfangor knew there was a battle coming, the Ellimist had told him so, and now he could see it for himself. Elfangor opened his stalk eyes, flicked his tail, and then he was suddenly on the bridge of an Andalite fighter…


	56. Discovery

****

One year later…

Visser Three had been getting some odd readings lately. There was an extra life-form reading coming from his Blade ship's computer. To make things even more confusing, the reading seemed to be coming from _outside_ the ship. Visser Three didn't like things that made no sense, they tended to make him irritable.

Visser Three had become somewhat infamous around the Empire for his short temper. Anything that made him angry was something to be avoided, if one wanted to live. Now, these sensor readings threatened to do the very thing that all of his crewmembers avoided studiously.

Land the Blade ship, Visser Three ordered.

His crew knew better than to argue with him, not after he had executed many of their fellows for simply disagreeing with him. The Blade ship plunged through the atmosphere of Earth. Visser Three had fought hard for this planet, but he was still not that much closer to conquest than he had been when the invasion had started.

Part of it was the fact that these humans were more resistant than he had given them credit for being. Not that Visser Three would ever admit to having made an error in judgment. Most of the reason that this planet was not already conquered was the fact that a small force of Andalites had somehow escaped detection and landed on the planet. They had been making a nuisance of themselves for three weeks by now.

The first time Visser Three had faced off with them had been in the Yeerk Pool, only fourteen days after he had killed Prince Elfangor. The Andalites had been in a variety of Earth animal morphs, and had already done a great deal of damage by the time he had arrived. They had even managed to free some of the captive hosts. But only one of the hosts, a woman, had gotten out of the Pool complex itself.

Visser Three wished he could say that the Andalites had all been killed, but he would have been lying. All of them had made it out of the Pool complex with only a few minor injuries, and those would be dealt with when they demorphed. As the Blade ship settled to the ground, Visser Three seethed silently.

He wanted to get this stupid sensor reading corrected so that he could get back to looking for the Andalites. Visser Three saw through the forward screens that they had landed in a large clearing in the forest, he supposed it was as good a place as any to check the sensors. As his technicians checked the systems, Visser Three waited.

Waiting was something that the Visser had done a lot during his life, but he had never learned to like it. It was necessary, and it was also mind-numbing. One of his techs, a Human-Controller, came up to him then.

Irin Nine-Four-Three knew better than to disturb his Visser when he was thinking. If he wanted to live, he would have to wait until Visser Three chose to notice him. Irin was good at waiting, since the sensors took time to work.

Finally though, the Visser turned to look at him.

Yes, Irin. What is it?

"I don't think this is a sensor malfunction. The reading didn't disappear when I reset the scanners. I think this reading is real."

Visser Three turned to look at the command console. Sure enough, the errant life-form reading was still there. It still appeared to be outside the ship, staying static just under the right wing. Visser Three narrowed his main eyes, this reading did appear to be real. As the Blade ship settled to the ground, Visser Three made up his mind to go out and investigate this reading personally.

Once the ship was on the ground, the Visser gathered seven of his most reliable techs and exited the ship. Once he was outside, the Visser aimed his stalk eyes upward. On the off chance that this reading was truly legitimate, Visser Three wanted to know what had caused it.

After ten minutes of searching, it was another tech named Yalen One-Three-Six who spotted it. "It" was a purplish-red pod of some unidentifiable type. It seemed to be some kind of plant, but one of a kind none of them had ever seen before. The techs and Visser Three used a mag-lev elevator to get closer to the pod.

Once they were close enough to see the details, they noticed that there seemed to be someone _inside_ that pod. They were surrounded by a translucent fluid that made it hard for the observing Controllers to make out much of the form inside. Slowly, carefully, the techs detached the pod from its moorings. It had been stuck to the ship with what almost looked like tree sap.

Visser Three, while he was careful to appear bored with the entire process, was intrigued by what they had found. As the elevator lowered back to the ground, Visser Three watched his techs carry the pod off the platform. They set the pod on the ground.


	57. A kind of closure

Well, what is it? Visser Three demanded.

"We - we don't know, Visser," one of the techs said, fearful of his reaction.

Disgusted, Visser Three turned away from the techs clustered around the pod, and so he didn't see them slit it open. The translucent liquid spilled over the forest floor, seeping quickly into the ground and disappearing. The techs stared at the figure in the pod, since it seemed to be a human like their hosts.

There were no plants like this on Earth, they knew, so how did a human end up inside this pod? That was the question that they were all trying to answer, when Visser Three came back to where they were standing. The Visser had gotten impatient with how his technicians seemed to be doing nothing more than standing around looking at the pod.

When he cocked his tail back, intending to decapitate one of his incompetent servants, he noticed what was inside the pod. Lowering his tail, Visser Three stepped closer for a better look. Blinking, Visser Three tried to convince himself that he was not seeing what he was seeing. That it was just some trick of his longing.

__

All this time? He was clinging to the outside of my ship, for all this time? Visser Three didn't know what to make of it. When one of the technicians tried to get his attention, Visser Three snapped his tail and severed the man's head without even a look his way. He wanted to see his old host closer.

You and you, pick him up, the Visser ordered.

The two Human-Controllers did as they were told, lifting the human-looking creature from the broken pod. Visser Three had to admit that the Navari looked a lot different from when the Visser had last seen him. For a start, the other was not wearing his trademark black tunic and loosefitting pants.

In fact, as the Visser let his gaze flick over the rest of the Navari's body, Visser Three saw that he wasn't wearing anything at all. Stepping closer, the Visser saw that the Navari was coated with some kind of transparent fluid. Rubbing his thumb across the Navari's right cheek, the Visser found that the fluid was seemingly evaporating.

What is this alien that he interests you so much, Yeerk? Alloran intruded.

He is powerful. Now shut up!

None of the Human-Controllers heard this, since the Visser did not project his thoughts, and Alloran _could_ not. The Navari seemed to be dead, and the Visser turned his attention to the pod that had been clinging to his Blade ship.

It was biological, that much was clearly observable. But, what was the function of the pod beyond simply acting as a deep-space transport? Visser Three stepped closer, just as the two techs dropped the Navari almost on top of the pod. The Visser's stalk eyes snapped around to pin the offending technicians with a cold glare.

He considered killing one or both of them for distracting him, but decided to merely ignore them. The pod held his attention now. Even broken open, with the Navari lying on top of it, the pod was a remarkable sight. It was purple-red in color, and looked almost like an Earth plant called a Venus flytrap.

Visser Three wondered if it ate like one as well. Suddenly Alloran, who had been waiting until the Visser was distracted, lunged for the Dracon beam strapped to his waist. Visser Three was still a bit preoccupied with what was in front of him, so he wasn't able to completely control Alloran's actions like he normally did.

Alloran fired, dead center into the Navari's lower back. Visser Three managed to regain control before Alloran could destroy the body. But when the bright light cleared, he saw that his host _had_ managed to damage it. The flesh of the Navari's back had been badly charred; the wound was even so deep that his spine was visible.

Leaning over to inspect the body, Visser Three found that even if the Navari had been alive, he would have been crippled. The nerves around the base of his spinal cord had been completely burned away, and two of the spinal disks had been fused together. Visser Three was seething.

How dare Alloran try to destroy something that meant so much to him?!

It was _because_ he meant so much to you that I attempted to destroy him, Yeerk.

_What_?!

He is powerful, you said so yourself. Too powerful for you to control, given the fact that you are no longer inside _his_ head, Alloran was practically laughing now. I was really doing you a _favor_.

Oh, so you were doing me a _favor_, were you? Visser Three asked, his voice a deadly purr.

Alloran had been getting a bit too cocky, having successfully moved his left arm, and with the added bonus that he was able to fire a Dracon beam while he was at it. But even Alloran knew when not to push his luck. Visser Three was angry, and Alloran had been with the Yeerk long enough to know that that was a Very Bad Thing.

Visser Three decided that he would deal with Alloran later, now he had to deal with the Navari. What did humans do with their dead? He decided to ask one of his techs, since their hosts were human, after all.

What does your host's species do when one of its members dies, Irin?

Irin turned his host back to face the Visser when he was addressed. Wiping his hands off on his pants, he started to speak.

"The humans would normally bury a member of their species that had died. Though some of them burn the body."

Visser Three considered what Irin had just said. He didn't really want to do any more damage to the Navari's body than what had already been done. So he chose to have his techs bury the body. When he told them this, they got to work silently, despite having nothing to work with but their hands.

Once they had made a deep enough hole, the techs put the Navari's body back in his pod. It had just, felt right to have him in there. And the techs _had_ said that humans used a container called a casket to hold the bodies of their deceased, though this had been sometime earlier, and at the time Visser Three had not known what to do with the knowledge. Maybe the pod could be his casket. Once they were done, none of his techs wanted to be the one to break the silence that had descended on the group. They all boarded the Blade ship again, and Visser Three idly wondered if things could have been different…


	58. Cycle of Events

Underground, just as the Blade ship was taking off, the teknopod was repairing the damage that had been done to itself. As the alien plant began to assess its new surroundings, it discovered that wherever it now was, there was no other source of Radam energy that it could detect. That left it with the more inefficient method of drawing nourishment from the local soil.

Extending structures which would act as a root system, it found that this soil was rich with nutrients. As the network of rootlike growths began to spread, the semi-sentient pod began to piece together the limited data it had gathered. This was obviously an unknown planet, since it could not detect any sources of Radam energy.

The Teknomen that the pod was programmed to create would need a leader, someone who would be able to make them into an effective army. So that they could conquer this unknown planet.

The rootlike structures pushed deeper into the soil, and at the same time they began to push the soil out of the way, burrowing deeper into the forest floor. The hole that the Yeerks had originally dug had been a foot-and-a-half deep; the pod's slow burrowing had already increased that depth to two feet by now.

****

Early the next afternoon…

Far from the area of the forest where the Radam pod lay, a bright, fiery orange light was flying high up into the sky, on its way to a prearranged place. Once the light had reached the peak of its trajectory, a pair of bright white beams shot out of the ground.

The beams were aimed at the orange light, but just as the white beams were about to strike it, the orange light countered. Striking out in its own defense. A wave of golden yellow light erupted from the orange light, impacting against the white beams and starting a chain reaction. The sky in that area seemed to tear itself apart, briefly flashing a midnight blue before returning to its normal hue.

After the event, there was nothing left to suggest that there had been anything out of the ordinary here except for a strange _charged_ feeling in the air.

****

The Blade ship, two hours later… 

Visser Three paced the length of his station aboard the command-bridge of his Blade ship. He had given Alloran a severe mental beating after getting back to his quarters, and right now the Andalite seemed to be laying low in his corner of the mind. Just then, another strange reading appeared on the sensor screen.

Unlike the previous one, this was not a lifeform reading. It was some kind of energy burst. Visser Three was currently in his human morph, since Alloran hated being in the form of an unsteady, half-blind, tailess animal.

"Yeven, get over here," Visser Three said, loudly enough that the Human-Controller would be sure to hear him.

Yeven Nine-Three-Six was one of his more intelligent Human-Controllers; at least enough that she knew not to annoy him by making him wait. Sure enough, Yeven was hurrying over right now.

"Can you tell me what this is?" Visser Three asked, indicating the readings with a wave of his hand.

Yeven came up to the sensor display console, and the Visser leaned against one of the farther stations, so as not to get in her way. He watched as Yeven began to study the readings. She seemed to be taking longer than she usually did, and Visser Three was beginning to grow impatient with her.

He demorphed, since he was closing in on his two-hour time limit, and also because he found his Andalite form to be more intimidating.

Well? What did you find?

"I - I don't know, sir. I've checked and rechecked the readings, and they still don't make any sense. Whatever this energy was, it's a kind I've never seen before. It seems to have a few things in common with solar plasma, but other than that, I don't know what to make of it."

Visser Three sighed, annoyed. He took a look at the readings for himself, and found that they were, in fact, incomprehensible. Turning away in disgust, Visser Three stalked off the bridge, heading back to his quarters. He hated mysteries.


	59. Forced Evolution

****

The forest, late that night…

The teknopod had managed to burrow seven feet down by now, and was showing no signs of stopping. But something else, something within the pod, was starting to happen now.

Thin bio-wires were starting to sprout from the inner wall, reaching out to take hold of the Teknoman slumbering within. The wires wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, and his neck. The teknopod itself began to elongate, pulling Teknoman Darkblade from a fetal position into a standing one.

Now that the teknopod had stopped burrowing, at least temporarily, it could concentrate its stored energy on Darkblade. The first thing that had to be done was to wake Darkblade from his hibernation. The pod's wires began pumping energy into Darkblade's body. Slowly at first, then with increasing intensity and rapidity.

As more and stronger energy was pumped through his body, the hidden, organic Teknocircuts began to light up. Darkblade's eyes began to flutter, the entire eye glowing with the same intensity as the Teknocircuts. He had been breathing shallowly when he had been in hibernation, partly because his heart had been beating so slowly and partly to conserve the limited oxygen that the pod was able to produce when it was frozen. Now, as his heart rate started to climb back to normal, Darkblade gasped, gulping in the oxygen newly created by the teknopod.

The pod knew that the Teknoman it contained was the only one of his kind on this planet. The energy that the pod had stored was now being channeled along the exposed Teknocircuts. As more and more energy was fed into them, Darkblade's body began to undergo a dramatic change.

His cells began to multiply at an unheard of rate. Muscles all over his body, those that had been atrophied from more than three years of disuse, began to rebuild themselves. But, once the physical degeneration had been repaired, the cells did not simply stop multiplying.

Darkblade was a Hunter Teknoman, and for as long as he had been in the company of a Warlord or with a group of his fellow Teknomen, this was sufficient. But now, on this unknown planet, with no other Radam to look to for leadership, Teknoman Darkblade would have to become something… more.

His open eyes shining like red beacons, and his open mouth taking in as much oxygen as his lungs would allow, Darkblade felt his mind opening up. Deep within his subconscious, memories that had been suppressed for over one thousand years were suddenly unleashed into Darkblade's conscious mind. The mental flood was a bit too much for him to cope with as yet, and so Darkblade's mind shut down from the overload.

This made no difference, since right now the changes being made to him were purely physical. As more cells were created, Darkblade's bones began to lengthen and harden. Darkblade's base height had been five feet nine inches. Now, as his bones began to grow, that base began to change.

Soon, Darkblade stood at just over six feet, and he was still growing. Once he stood at six feet seven inches, Darkblade stopped growing taller. Now, now that the physical changes were complete, there were the mental alterations that had to be made. It would not do to have a comatose Warlord.

Bioelectricity began to course through Darkblade's brain, reawakening synapses that had shut down after the initial shock of too many memories being unlocked at once.


	60. Awakening

__

Navris.

My world. I come from a planet called Navris.

The newborn Tekno-Warlord's eyes opened, and he beheld the new body that the teknopod had given him. It was still his own body, of course, but the changes that had been made by the pod made it seem like a wholly new one. Right away, he noticed that he was more muscular than his previous incarnation.

He had given up his greatest advantage in one-on-one combat: the fact that most of his opponents would underestimate him, since he had appeared to be nothing more than arms and legs, slender ones at that. This body was not meant to conceal his strength, rather it was meant to warn those who challenged him that he was not one to be taken lightly.

He could feel more energy gathering inside the pod, and he knew that this energy would be used to improve his Tekno-armor. He let the pod activate his transformation. Once he was in his transformed state, he could feel his armor growing and reforming.

While his armor was reformatted, he decided to investigate his newly recovered memories…

__

Daquin Delna. Ivera Shelith. Hyvrin Marave. Jounashi Marave. My best friend. My mother. My older brother. My father.

I was once called Drathis… Yes, Drathis Marave.

He chuckled to himself. It was an interesting name. And he also remembered what he had been… back on Navris: a Seer. But not just any kind of Seer, oh no, he was a Seer that no one had ever believed. Until that fateful day, the day that the Radam had come to Navris. Only Daquin had stood by him after that day, warning him to get out of Chelna before he was killed by those that believed the invasion was somehow his fault.

__

Chelna. The city where I grew up. He thought it was rather ironic, since that was the first city that Omega and his forces had attacked. Chelna, rather than Atukama, Mieara, or Rathenra, which after all was the capital city.

He chuckled again, knowing now that Omega had known that the people of Chelna, at least most of them, had wanted to kill him. All except for Daquin, of course, and Omega had personally spared his life. Thanking him for protecting his "little warrior" before knocking him unconscious and throwing him to the teknopods.

At the time, he had wondered why Omega hadn't simply killed the blue-haired Navarian, or thrown him to the teknopods the moment Daquin had seen them. Omega had said something rather enigmatic then, about him knowing that when the time was right. Back then, he had tried to put the incident out of his mind, and now he knew what Omega had meant when he had said that.

__

Shaika. Daquin became Teknoman Shaika. He knew that beyond and shadow of doubt. First off, Daquin and Shaika had both been friends of his, and they looked too much alike to be anyone else. And he now knew for a fact that Daquin had been an only child.

__

I'm going to need a new name, he thought to himself with a slight smile. He couldn't just keep referring to himself in the third person, and he was no longer Teknoman Darkblade. That had been the name of a Hunter Teknoman, and he was no longer simply a _Teknoman_, Hunter or otherwise.

He closed his eyes, partly to concentrate, and partly because he was quickly becoming bored of looking at his rock and dirt surroundings. He looked through his mind, sifting through his past to find the name that would suit what he now was. He was darkness personified, now and forever.

__

Yes, darkness. I am the Dark One. I am… Darkon. 

Darkon smiled, that name suited him just fine.


	61. Soldier

****

Two weeks later…

Jessy Summers walked through the forest, sighing softly as he admired the beauty of the trees. His father was still a bit miffed at him for not joining the school's Basketball team. Yes, he was quick and agile, and would probably have done very well in that particular sport, but unlike his father, Jessy had no particular interest in sports. It was a bone of contention between them, sometimes, but they were both able to find enough common ground to overlook it most of the time.

Today was not one of those days, though. Jessy had gotten into a bit of an argument with his father over him not being in the team. Well, maybe 'argument' was too strong a word. Jessy was really too even-tempered to get into a real argument, it had been more like a friendly disagreement. But still, Jessy was happy to get out of the house, if only for a little while.

It was near dusk, but under the canopy of leaves, it might as well have been late evening. Jessy liked the night more that he did the daytime, but only when he wasn't sketching, then he preferred to work out in the sun. 

But it was swiftly getting too dark for even him to see, so Jessy decided to head back home. Dad would have probably forgotten about the Basketball team by now anyway. As he made his way back through the darkened forest, Jessy tripped over a root. Regaining his footing, Jessy looked around.

There didn't seem to be any roots that stuck up out of the ground far enough for anyone to trip over, much less someone who had been walking in these woods for as long as Jessy had been. His dad was a very outdoorsy type, and that was one thing that the two of them had in common.

Jessy looked around again, making sure this time that there was nothing to trip over in his current path. He took seven more steps, before his legs were abruptly yanked out from under him. He didn't manage to catch himself so quickly this time, and Jessy slammed into the ground chest-first. As he lay there, Jessy wondered how he could have missed seeing another root. It wasn't that dark yet, and he had given his eyes ample time to adjust to the decreasing level of light.

Getting back to his feet again, and brushing off the leaves and small twigs that had stuck to his clothes, Jessy made sure to thoroughly check the ground where he was walking. He did _not_ want another accident like that to happen again. Starting to walk again, Jessy's left heel came down on something that was most definitely not the ground.

This time Jessy landed on his back. Fed up with tripping every few steps, Jessy got to his feet and headed off in a different direction. This new path was at an almost perfect right angle to his previous one, and for awhile it seemed as if he had made the right move by switching directions. But then, after about twenty minutes, Jessy's right leg was pulled out from under him.

As he tried to get back up, Jessy found that his ankle was still caught, by something that looked a lot like a hunter's snare. He wondered just what one of those was doing _here_, of all places. Jessy was pretty sure that trapping was banned in the national forest.

He didn't have any more time to contemplate the oddity of a hunter's trap, as the ground under him gave way without the slightest bit of warning. Jessy didn't have time for anything but a surprised yelp, before he was roughly slammed into the ground ten feet below. Before he had the chance to recover from the shock of the fall something, several_ somethings _in fact, were grabbing him around his shoulders, his ankles, his wrists, and his waist.

Jessy was pulled face-first into something hot and sticky. With no time to even struggle, Jessy was enveloped in the hot stickiness.

__

My first catch, Darkon thought with a predatory smile. Darkon watched as the structural analysis of this newly captured creature began. Darkon was able to monitor the process, of course, given his newfound telepathic connection with the teknopods.

__

Hmmm, apparently these creatures call themselves 'humans'. Darkon considered his first captive; the boy's name was Jessy Summers. A rather plain sounding name, Darkon personally thought. One of the younger humans on this planet, called a teenager by the older humans.

Darkon considered this 'Jessy'; he would certainly not make a sufficient guide, since he held close ties to this planet. Darkon needed someone without connections, someone who would not care about the damage that the Radam would do to this planet.

__

Incidentally, Darkon wondered, _what do the humans _call_ this planet?_ Darkon searched Jessy's mind. _Earth? That's what they call it? What a plain name for a planet._

Darkon sighed silently; he was still transformed, wearing the armor of a Tekno-Warlord. He could see Jessy struggling within the teknopod, and he knew how much pain the young human must be in. Darkon didn't care in the slightest.

If Jessy was strong enough, he would survive the transformation. If he was not, he would die. It was that simple.

As he watched, Darkon started to suspect that Jessy just might be able to survive the process, he was still alive, and the weaker creatures would have died by this time. But it still remained to be seen whether Jessy would survive the remaining tests. Or the implantation of the parasite, for that matter.

Darkon had heard of a few cases where the prospective Teknomen went brain-dead upon having the parasite implanted. Darkon hoped that his first warrior would not suffer from such a defect. But there was always that chance.


	62. The Carters

****

Two months later…

The rustic log cabin sat on the far edge of the woods, near enough to the road to use it to get into the city, but far enough away that the occupants couldn't see it from their house. All seemed nice and quiet, but then the silence was abruptly shattered by an enraged shout.

"Cain Allen Carter! Get in here _right now_!"

Conrad Carter, eldest of Ulysses Carter's four sons, looked around. He hadn't really expected his prank-pulling younger brother to come running into his room, especially when Conrad had sounded _that_ mad. In fact, Cain would probably make it a point to avoid him now. That is, if Conrad let him.

Tucking the offending item into his pajama pocket, Conrad walked out of his room. The first place he was going to check was the twins' room, though he doubted that Cain was in there. Ness might be able to tell him where Cain was.

Closing his door behind him, Conrad walked down the hall to the room where the twins slept. Pushing the door open, Conrad walked over to the beds. He would never understand his brothers' fascination with bunk beds, but he had to admit that they'd come up with an ingenious method for sharing it: every night they switched beds, so if Ness had been sleeping on the top bunk on Thursday, Cain would be there on Friday.

Conrad now stood next to the bed. Looking at the pillow Conrad saw a head of long black hair, which meant precisely squat since both twins had long hair. Conrad pulled the blankets off of the sleeping figure.

"Cain?"

"Wrong guy," Ness mumbled, his voice still thick from being awakened too suddenly. One green eye opened, aiming up at his older brother. "Why don't you yell a little louder next time? I don't think the fossilized spores on Mars heard you yet."

Conrad rolled his eyes. No matter how tired either of them was, Ness and Cain could be counted on to be sarcastic. Climbing the ladder that led to the top bunk, Conrad saw that this one was also occupied. But occupied by what? _Well, if something seems too good to be true…_ Conrad thought as he pulled the covers off the 'sleeping figure' _it probably is._ Under the covers was nothing but more covers, rolled up so someone who didn't look too closely might think the bed was still full.

Not bothering to climb back down the ladder, Conrad jumped back to the ground. Once he was out of the twins' room, Conrad headed to the living room, since that was the most likely place that Cain would be. Making sure to be as quiet as was humanly possible, Conrad tiptoed down the stairs. Once he was in the living room, Conrad slunk over to the old, overstuffed couch that had been set up in front of the TV.

Looking over the back, Conrad saw Cain was indeed sleeping on the couch. He'd brought out one of his coats, probably so he could leave all his bedding in his room. He looked kind of cute when he was sleeping, but Conrad wasn't going to let something like that stop him. He walked around to the front of the couch.

"Awww," Conrad whispered, though he really didn't have to.

Cain had the uncanny ability to sleep through anything, rock concerts and natural disasters included. Conrad tossed the jacket off of Cain's sleeping form, then grabbed his younger brother by his pajamas and pulled him off the couch.

"Gah!" Cain shouted when he hit the ground.

Cain looked around, whipping his long black hair back and forth as he searched for his assailant. When he looked up, Conrad grinned and waved at him.

"Aw great," Cain muttered. "I'm doomed, aren't I?"

"Pretty much," Conrad said with a cheerful smile.

"Should I start running now?"

"Only if you don't want to get creamed," Conrad answered, still smiling.

Cain took off, bolting like a cheetah across the Savannah. Conrad gave him enough of a head start to be sporting, then ran after him. Conrad caught up in the den, since there was no other exits from that particular room. Cain tried to defend himself with a cushion from the couch, but Conrad knocked it out of his hands.

Pinning Cain to the same couch that he'd stolen the cushion off of, Conrad started to tickle his younger brother mercilessly. Years of getting pranked by Cain had given the eldest Carter sibling an extensive knowledge of his brother's sensitive spots.

"No! No, not there!" Cain managed to gasp, before bursting out laughing again as Conrad tickled him under the ribs.

At last, out of breath, Conrad let Cain slide down to the ground.

"What (gasp) was that for?" Cain asked.

"You stapled all my underwear shut! And I still hadn't paid you back for three weeks ago, when you put those rubber snakes in my bed."

Cain blew a raspberry at Conrad. "You deserved it, you know."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"You put seaweed in whatever you cook! I hate seaweed!" Cain crossed his arms, as if that was a valid reason for whatever he did.

"It's healthy."

"It's gross is what it is," Cain grumped.

"You're crazy," Conrad said, rolling his eyes.

***

Since Conrad's earlier shout had woken the entire house, most of them were already up and dressed. It was the last day of school, so Conrad and Cain quickly joined the others at the breakfast table.

"Cain, Cookie Crunch is not a breakfast food," Ulysses Carter admonished.

Cain, his mouth full of the aforementioned cereal, could only roll his eyes in exasperation. _My dad, the health nut. Must be where Conrad gets it from._

"Shara, pass the milk," Ness asked.

"Here you go," she said, handing him the carton.

The sounds of spoons clinking against bowls, the crunch of cereal and toast being eaten, and the soft slurp of people drinking was all that could be heard in the kitchen for the next five minutes.

"Raven, don't forget your sunglasses," Conrad told his youngest brother.

Raven Carter; second last child of Ulysses and last boy, nodded. Raven had been born an albino, and therefore he had very sensitive eyes and skin. Raven tended to get sunburn easily, and he didn't like to spend as much time outdoors as his hardier brothers did. Shara was only a partial albino, so she didn't have as much trouble with those kinds of things as Raven did.

The five Carter siblings piled into Ulysses' Dodge Caravan, he had loaned it to Conrad when the latter had gotten his driver's license. Conrad had been saving up to get his own car, and the loan of course had been accompanied by more than a few 'soccer mom' jokes from Cain.

In the end, Conrad ended up taking his dad's offer, since the only other car the family had was Ulysses' old Toyota Corolla. Everyone else wondered why he still kept the old clunker, since most of them thought it was god-awful ugly.

Once they were all buckled up inside the mini-van, Conrad started the engine and backed out of the garage. After he'd gotten onto the narrow dirt road that led to or away from the house, depending on which way you were coming from, he turned onto the road and drove away.

***

They arrived at school after about an hour and a half, piling out, eager to get the last day of school over with so they could leave.

"I'll see you guys after school, okay?"

"Yeah, we'll see you, Conrad," Ness said, waving to him, as Conrad climbed back into the mini-van.

"Bye, big brother!" Shara waved as Conrad closed the door.

The others waved to him as he drove off. Conrad liked the fact that the cooking school he was attending allowed him enough time to drop the rest of his siblings off at school before he had to get to class himself.


	63. Last Days

Cain slung his backpack over his shoulder, Ness slipped his on more tightly, and they all left the parking lot behind.

"First class of the day," Ness said, standing in front of the door.

"Yours, you mean. Miserable, lucky little rat," Cain muttered.

Ness' first class was Creative Writing, while Cain went to Math. Cain hated math, and had often asked Ness to switch schedules with him. The two of them looked enough alike that if they had wanted to, they could have pulled off that kind of switch. But Ness had always adamantly refused, since he wasn't that fond of math himself. Cain sighed, walking the rest of the way to his first class with an expression of resigned annoyance on his face.

***

After the classes were over, the four of them met up at their lockers. They weren't all in a row, but they were close enough to talk when the halls weren't too busy.

"How'd your first class go, little bird?" Cain asked Raven.

"Fine."

Raven's first class of the day had been Art, something he didn't much care for. Raven preferred to read rather than draw, and he hated to get his hands dirty when they were sculpting. Today the class had been making terra-cotta bowls. They had all washed their hands at the sink that was installed in the art room, of course, but Raven still felt like some of the clay was clinging to his hands. Despite the fact that he had spent the longest at the sink.

"I need to go to the bathroom," Raven muttered, turning away from the lockers.

Cain sighed; he'd never understand his little brother's obsession with having perfectly clean hands. Just then, a familiar someone came up to the lockers.

"Hey Cain," he said, waving.

"Oh," Cain turned to his left. "Mornin' Fritz."

Fritz Wallace, one of Cain's best friends outside of his family, was a sort of a half-orphan. He'd been raised by his sister, after his father had died of cancer. As far as Cain knew, neither Fritz nor his older sister Katherine had known their mother.

"So, the last day at the yawn factory for three months. What are we going to do to celebrate?"

"We're going camping," Cain rolled his eyes. "You know how much I love camping."

Fritz grinned, he knew that Cain hated camping more than anything else in the world.

"Lovely. How long?"

"Three weeks. You and Kathy are invited, of course."

"As if there was ever any doubt." Fritz grinned, with Conrad and Katherine planning to get married soon, Ulysses had told him that he could consider himself one of the family.

"At least I'll have someone to be bored with."

Fritz had to laugh at that declaration, how anyone could be bored on a camping trip was beyond him. Then again, Cain was a 90's boy all the way. Fritz had often heard Cain say that he'd go nuts if he was separated from his Game Boy for more than three days.

Cain rolled his eyes again. "Laugh it up, blondie. You're going to be stuck sleeping on rocks and being eaten alive by bugs right along with the rest of us."

"How _ever_ will I survive?" Fritz said melodramatically, putting a hand to his head, imitating a faint.

"Ha. Ha ha. And ha," Cain said, lips quirking in a vain effort to hide his amusement.

"Well," Fritz said, hauling the necessary books out of his locker and trading in the ones he didn't need right now. "I guess there's no putting it off any longer. I've got to get to math class."

There was a decidedly unhappy expression on Fritz's face. Both he and Cain agreed that Math was the bane of both their lives. Fritz sighed, closing his locker; it was time to bite the bullet.

***

Shara, fresh out of Home Ec, stretched her arms. _I'm never going to get the hang of making a chocolate soufflé, _she thought ruefully. Her last attempt had _not_ gone all that well. Though she wasn't the only one whose soufflé had collapsed, she wasn't looking forward to repeating the class when summer vacation was over.

__

Cookies, now those I can do. But whoever decided we were supposed to know how to make French desserts should be dragged out into the street and shot. Shara shook her head, sighing in exasperation. At least it was almost lunchtime, just one more class and then she could go sit down and eat.

And her next class was Art, one of her favorites. Shara skipped the rest of the way to her locker, humming softly to herself.

"Well, _someone's_ on cloud nine," said a voice that Shara immediately recognized.

"Ryan!" Shara squealed happily, turning to give her boyfriend a hug. Ryan returned the gesture, and added a quick peck on his girlfriend's lips for good measure.

Shara quickly put the rest of the books she was holding in her locker. Shutting the door and giving the combination lock a good spin; she turned back to Ryan.

"So, Ryan Makenzie, are you coming on the usual end of school camping trip?" Shara asked, giving him a sideways look and batting her eyelashes coyly.

"You're going to be there too, right?"

"Silly boy," Shara gave his chest an affectionate pat. "Of course I will."

"Then where else would I be?" Ryan took Shara's hand, and kissed her on the nose. "I'll meet you after school, Shara."

"See you there!"

Shara blew Ryan a kiss, then turned away and headed for the Art room.

__

What a woman, Ryan thought happily, heading off to class himself.

***

"Finally," Ness sighed. He thought that lecture in History class would never end. He'd been focused more on his empty stomach than one anything the teacher had been saying, so Ness doubted he'd do particularly well on the exams, whenever they came.

Ness yawned, pulling out his lunchbox with the foot-long sub sandwich that he'd picked up for himself yesterday.

***

In the cafeteria, Ryan and Shara were in line to get their so-called food.

"I hope they're at least serving something partly edible," Ryan said, grimacing at the memory of some of the more disgusting things the school had dished out.

"Yeah. I still can't believe I went to all the trouble of making myself a lunch, and then I left it at home," Shara sighed.

Ryan chuckled, nudging Shara playfully.

"That's just the way these things go," Ryan said lightly.

It turned out that they were serving pizza today, both Ryan and Shara agreed that that was just the right kind of thing for the last day of school. Pizza was one of their favorite foods, and one of the few things that the school cafeteria could serve that actually tasted like what it was supposed to taste like.

That was probably because no one who actually _worked_ in the cafeteria had a hand in making the food. Once they had both gotten their pizza slices, Shara and Ryan looked for a place to sit down and eat.

"Shara! Ryan! Come on, come over here and sit with us!" Ness called, waving the two of them over.

Ryan and Shara quickly walked over to the table where their friends sat. Along with Shara's brothers, there were also Devon Connor and his sister Cindy, and Sidney McMasters. Cindy and Devon were closer to the Carter kids than Sidney was.

Fritz was the one who had introduced Sidney to the rest of his friends. Sidney was still a little shy around the rest of them, but he was slowly coming around.

"They were serving _pizza_?" Ness asked.

"Yeah. Pretty good choice for the last day of school, huh?" Ryan answered, taking another bite of his slice.

Ness nodded back, his mouth too full of sandwich to answer properly.

"I was wondering where Cain got his from," Raven said absently, more focused on his book than on the actual conversation.

Turning a page, Raven popped another pizza roll in his mouth. Ness shook his head. Even though he was used to his little brother's habit of reading while he ate, Ness still got a bit tired of it from time to time.

"So Raven, what are you reading today?" Fritz asked.

"The Midnight Club," Raven answered, turning another page and eating another pizza roll.

"I've never heard of that one. Who wrote it?" Fritz asked, trying to involve the silent boy in something resembling a conversation.

"Christopher Pike."

Fritz shrugged in response; he could tell by Raven's clipped tone that the other boy was starting to become annoyed by Fritz's interruptions. _Let it never be said that I don't know when to shut up,_ Fritz thought, taking another bite of his pizza.


	64. Leave Taking

After lunch, there were still a few things that had to be taken care of before the eight of them could leave. The last few periods were devoted to cleaning out their lockers and desks, huge trashcans had been brought out to help.

Cain took out one of the comic books he'd stashed in his locker. Grinning, he remembered the times he'd smuggled it and others like it into a particularly boring class. Mostly Math class, but sometimes only having a comic book with him had kept him from conking out in History.

Ness was picking through scrap paper and assorted pencil stubs._ Just my luck I'm such a packrat,_ he thought with a soft chuckle. Since he wasn't going to keep any of the stuff he was finding in here, Ness just scooped it out and hauled it to the trash.

***

Devon yawned, fighting the urge to ask someone else to deal with his locker so he could go to the nurse's office for a nap. Devon had low blood pressure, which made it hard for him to get going in the morning. It also made him tired very easily. Yawning again, Devon forced himself to get back to work.

***

Finally, everything was done. The various lockers were all cleaned out, and everyone had left the school building.

"Well, it feels good to have that over and done with, now doesn't it?" Cain asked, looking around at his family and friends.

"You can say that again," Fritz said, lying back in the grass.

"Buses are coming," Devon said absently.

The eight of them, since they had already arranged to get a ride to the Carters' home with Conrad, sat and watched as most of the other kids got on the buses.

"Buses are leaving," Fritz commented, as the big yellow vehicles drove off the parking lot.

Cindy snapped her fingers, as if she had suddenly thought of something.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you guys this. I've joined this new club; it's called The Sharing. I was wondering if any of you guys want to join up?"

"Ignore her," Devon commented from his place on the grass. "She's been trying to talk anyone who'll listen to her into joining."

"Hmm, The Sharing," Ness mused. "Isn't that the weird new cult that's sprung up lately?"

"It is _not _a cult!" Cindy protested.

"Sure it's not," Cain said, batting his eyelashes. "The people who join up are all saying that their problems disappeared once they became a full member of The Sharing. Now tell me Cind, what do you call a place like that?" Cain's tone was that of someone speaking to a particularly deluded person.

"It is _not _a cult."

"Maybe this 'Sharing' is a Goa'uld front," Fritz said, grinning. "Maybe they're trying to invade Earth quietly, so by the time anyone at SGC notices them, they've already won."

Everyone laughed, but Cindy's laughter seemed a bit forced. No one noticed.

"I've seen some of the guys who stand guard outside Sharing meetings in those old buildings they have," Ness said mock seriously. "Maybe those are Jaffa."

Everyone laughed again. Stargate: SG-1 was one of their favorite TV shows.

"Hey, if they have Jaffa, maybe they really _are_ Goa'uld," Cain finished.

Just then, the green mini-van that Conrad had driven away in all those hours ago came rolling up. Pulling to a neat stop, Katherine waved to the group from the passenger-side window.

"Need a ride?" she laughed.

They all piled into the mini-van, filling the three rows of seats.

"Who says _you_ get to ride shotgun?" Ness teased Katherine, from his seat just behind the front.

"First come, first served," Conrad said lightly.

Just behind Ness, Cain and Shara, Fritz, Devon and Cindy had claimed the second row of seats.

"Hey, sis? Would you mind if I -?" Devon trailed off, but his intent was clear to anyone who knew him.

"What? Oh, sure," Cindy said.

Devon lay his head in Cindy's lap, stretching out his legs and resting his feet in Fritz's.

"Fritz Wallace, the human footrest," Fritz smiled with resigned amusement.

"Do you mind? I _could_ rest my feet on the floor, if it really bothers you that much."

"Nah. I was only teasing you, Dev. Go ahead and take your nap," Fritz answered, waving his hand and dismissing Devon's concern.

"Thanks," a couple minutes later, Devon was fast asleep.


	65. Setting Forth

Ninety minutes later, they arrived at the Carters' cabin in the woods.

"Devon, wake up," Cindy cooed, nudging her brother's head.

"Mmmm, wha- huh?" Devon blinked, looking around the interior of the mini-van with sleep-clouded eyes. "We there already?" he mumbled.

"You slept through the entire trip," Fritz teased, already outside.

Devon yawned, sitting up and stretching. "Yeah, yeah, (yawn) you try dealing with my condition sometime."

Fritz rolled his eyes._ Dev does have a point, though,_ he admitted to himself._ It can't be that easy to stay awake for long when you have low blood pressure._

"Fritz! Cindy! Devon! Are any of you coming inside for dinner, or do the rest of us get to eat your portions?" Ness called from the door leading out of the garage.

"You _touch_ any of my food, Ness Carter, and I will string you up from the flagpole by your ankles!" Fritz shot back.

"Yeah, whatever. Get in here already!"

"Well," Devon chucked. "If nothing else, _that_ woke me up."

"At least he's good for something," Fritz said, grinning.

Cindy and Devon got out of the mini-van, walking through the door into the kitchen. Conrad was standing in front of the sink, washing a frying pan. When they came in Conrad turned to them and smiled.

"They're in the dining room."

"Thanks, Conrad!" Cindy called, waving back to him as they exited the kitchen.

In the Carter family dining room, the rest of the family and friends were gathered around the table. As he passed Katherine, Fritz gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek, and Katherine kissed Fritz on his other cheek as he passed.

Four seats at the table were still empty, and Fritz took the one on Cain's right. Ness was sitting to the right of his twin, and Shara was sitting next to Ness. Cain looked a bit miffed.

"What is it, Cain?" Fritz asked. "Don't tell me you actually _want _to go back to school tomorrow."

"It's not that, Fritzy," Cain smirked. "It's more like the worst of all _un_natural disasters."

"Oh, what's that?" Fritz raised an eyebrow at Cain.

"Conrad's cooking today."

Little did Cain know, but the object of his conversation was standing almost right behind him. Conrad still had the frying pan he'd been washing, and was now wearing a devious smirk to go with it. Walking up behind Cain's chair, Conrad spun it around.

"Wha- oh. Uh-oh."

"You, little brother, are lucky I'm such a forgiving person." Conrad poked Cain in the chest with the frying pan, knowing that he'd have to wash it again. But the look on Cain's face was worth it. He turned to the other occupants of the table. "What I was originally going to say, before _someone_ distracted me, was that it's going to be a while before dinner's ready, so if you want to go and read something or play, you can do that."

"Thank you, Conrad," Ulysses said.

***

After dinner, where Conrad had served up his famous spaghetti and meatballs, the eleven of them all split up to go to their various destinations. Cain, Fritz and Ness headed up to the twins' room. Conrad and Katherine went to the den. Raven, Devon, Cindy and Sidney went to the living room. Shara and Ryan were still in the dining room, finishing up their ice cream.

Up in the twins' room, Fritz and Cain were sitting on the lower bunk, reading some of Cain's massive collection of comic books. Ness, who didn't like to do things at the last minute, was picking out the clothes he was going to pack for the camping trip.

***

Down in the living room, Cindy seemed to be preoccupied by something.

"I need to make a call," she said, getting up from the couch.

"Why?" Devon asked. "We've already told mom and dad that we'd be gone for three weeks, and they said it was okay."

"Not them, I have to call the people at The Sharing. I have to tell them I'm not going to be around for three weeks," Cindy said absently, already heading for the phone.

"(yawn) Well, I might as well go start packing. Do you still have the backpack I used last year?"

"We never got rid of it," Ulysses said with a kind smile. "It's in the storage closet. In the den."

"Thanks!" Devon said, hopping off the couch and waving to Ulysses as he headed for the den.

***

Cain and Fritz, after putting up the last of Cain's comic books, headed down to the den to get their backpacks. Ness, carrying his walking stick, followed them out.

The eleven of them worked in silence. Once they had all gotten their backpacks out of the closet, Cain felt something rub against his legs. Looking down he saw Trisha, the shorthaired white and black spotted cat that his dad had gotten him and Ness for their fifth birthday.

She was rubbing against his legs, trying to get his attention. Leaning over, Cain scratched between her ears. Trisha purred, rubbing against Cain's hand, trying to get him to pet her more.

"Sorry, Trisha, I've got to get packing."

Cain gave the cat one last stroke, from her head to the tip of her tail, picked up his backpack, and headed up to his room to pick out his clothes. Ness wasn't far behind.

Trisha went from person to person, looking for someone who'd pay attention to her. When all she found were a few absent-minded pats, or a quick rub from someone who wasn't even looking at her, Trisha turned up her nose, put her tail in the air, and left to go sulk.

***

Up in the twins' room, Ness and Cain were packing their clothes for the trip. Ness' walking stick was already hanging in its holder on the right side of his pack; he wouldn't need it until they were in the woods.

"You know it's going to take awhile before your cat forgives us for this, Ness."

"Oh?" Ness raised an eyebrow. "So now she's _my_ cat?"

"You know the system. Whenever she's bad, annoying, or just generally a nuisance, she's you cat," Cain smirked at his twin. "She's only _my_ cat when she's good."

"You, brother mine, have it backwards. Trisha's only _my_ cat when she's good. She's yours when she's bad," Ness smirked right back at Cain.

"She is _not_."

"Is too."

"Is not," Cain said, crossing his arms and preparing for a long argument.

"Packing, remember?" Ness reminded them both, holding up his backpack.

"So I get the last word? I can live with that," Cain said, smirking at Ness again.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Ness shook his head, sighing as he resumed packing. Cain was so weird.

***

Back in the den, Ryan and Shara had joined the packing effort at last. Those outside of the family who were coming on the trip had been preparing for it for over four weeks. Ryan, Fritz, Katherine, Cindy and Devon had already had the clothes they were going to take on the trip over at the cabin. Cindy and Devon's parents had agreed to come to the cabin every other day to check on Trisha. 


	66. Dark nights in the forest

They were all packing up the clothing they'd brought to the cabin, as well as the snacks and trail-mix that Ulysses had bought. Their sleeping bags, already rolled up, were strapped onto the bottom of their packs.

Raven, who was physically the weakest in the family, was only required to carry his own pack. Ulysses had agreed to take his sleeping bag for him, provided Raven had rolled it up first. Since Raven had already done that, all that remained was for Ulysses to clip the sleeping bag to his pack.

Once he was finished, Ness and Cain came back down the stairs. They had finished packing their clothes, and now they just needed to get their food and sleeping bags, and then they would be ready to go. Quickly packing up the snacks left out for them, Ness and Cain set about rolling up their respective sleeping bags and clipping them to their packs.

Once they were done with this, all eleven of them gathered together in the living room.

"Well, that takes care of the easy part," Ryan said, dusting off his hands and taking a deep breath.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that little piece of information," Fritz said, with a sidelong grin at Ryan.

"Well, if we're all done with the preliminaries, let's get going!" Shara enthused, settling her pack more firmly on her shoulders.

"All right, let's do that!" Ulysses Carter laughed heartily, ruffling Shara's hair as he turned.

Ryan, falling into step behind Shara, smiled. Shara seemed to be in her element here, laughing at a joke Cain had just told. Something about guys walking into a bar or something, Ryan was too absorbed in his thoughts of Shara to really pay attention. She was amazing, there was really no better word to describe her.

***

Leaving the cabin behind, the Carters and their guests made for the deep woods. They knew they were going to be walking for most of the rest of the day, then they would stop, eat, and make camp for the night. They were a bit tired from school, but all of them were looking forward to the trip.

They walked on through the afternoon, stopping now and then for a quick snack and a drink of water. They saw a lot of birds and squirrels up in the treetops, just before those animals disappeared into their hiding places. Cain and Ness had had dropped a little bit behind the rest of them, just far enough to be able to talk without being overheard.

"So Ness, what are you going to do with that blue box you found?" Cain asked.

"I don't really know." Ness thought about it for a minute. "I guess I'll just keep it at home, maybe use it as a paper weight. Although, it does have a lot of weird symbols on it." He grinned. "Maybe it's a Tok'ra artifact."

Both of them, recalling the subject of their conversation at school, burst into contained laughter. Neither of them wanted to attract the attention of any of the others. Once they were finished laughing, someone called back to them from the front of the group.

"Are you two coming, or what?"

"We're coming, Conrad. We're coming," Ness called back.

"What were you two doing, anyway?" Conrad asked, when the two of them had rejoined the group.

"Nothing," Cain said.

"Talking," Ness said at the same time.

Conrad shook his head, fighting the urge to laugh. Ness sidled up to Cain, leaning close so he could whisper in his brother's ear.

"Paranoia, thy name is Cain."

That earned him a smack on the back of his head.

***

Much later, all eleven of them sat together in a large clearing, toasting marshmallows over a roaring campfire. They had earlier cleared the area of anything that might have caught fire, and had also gathered up a generous amount of fuel. Right now, some of them were debating just what it meant to toast a marshmallow.

"Ahh, just the way I like them," Fritz said, pulling his marshmallow out of the flames, just as it had caught fire.

"Char-broiled marshmallows, ick," Cain said, blowing on his nicely golden-browned marshmallow to make it cool off faster.

"Oh, says you," Fritz shot back. "Yours isn't even fully cooked."

"I happen to like the taste of marshmallow more than the taste of burned goo, thank you very much." Cain tossed his head, humphing at Fritz.

"You're crazy."

"Well, you're a nut."

"Well, _you're_ a dork."

"Well, _you're_ an idiot."

"Boys, settle down," Ulysses said, long used to having to break up these kinds of 'arguments'.

"Yes, dad."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Carter."

Ulysses sighed, watching Fritz and Cain stick their tongues out at each other. Apparently, they just couldn't resist taking one last shot at each other. Conrad yawned then, and most of the others around the fire did so as well.

"All right everyone, I think it's long past time for all of us to go to bed," Ulysses said.

"But dad, our beds are at home."

"You know what I mean, Cain," Ulysses said tolerantly.

They all split up after that, going to their respective tents to sleep. Katherine and Conrad shared a tent, and so did Cain, Fritz and Ness. Ulysses Carter had his own tent, both because he was the oldest, and because no one wanted to sleep in the same tent with him due to his unfortunate habit of snoring.

Raven, Ryan, Devon, Shara and Cindy were all sharing a tent.


	67. Innocent Serendipity

The next day, after they had broken down the tents and repacked them, the eleven of them moved on. That is to say, _ten_ of them moved on. The eleventh, one Cindy Connor, walked in exactly the opposite direction. She had been making it a point to get lost every one or two days. They all just wrote it off as Cindy trying to get some attention.

Raven was the first to notice that she was missing this time. He blew out a long breath, hissing through his teeth._ Okay,_ he thought impatiently,_ the first few times I didn't mind. It was actually kind of interesting, going out and exploring different parts of the forest, but this is the fourth time she's done this. The novelty is really starting to wear off._

Raven turned to his right, where Ryan was walking. He really didn't know the other boy very well, but Shara seemed to like him so he couldn't be too bad.

"I have to go," he muttered, just loud enough so that the purple-haired boy would hear him.

"Huh? Why?" Ryan asked, stopping in his tracks, and taking a moment to be grateful that no one was walking behind him.

"Cindy's run off again," Raven said, not sure whether he was disgusted with Cindy or just really, really angry.

"Hey slowpokes! If you don't want to spend the rest of your lives wandering around in the woods, I suggest you get your butts in gear!" Conrad shouted from somewhere up ahead.

"Sorry, Conrad, we can't!" Ryan shouted right back, grinning. "We'd love to, but we really, really can't!"

"Oh? And why might that be?"

"Raven said Cindy's run off again!"

"What?! Oh, for Christ's sake, this is the fourth time! What, does she think we have time to spare for _every_ one of her little tantrums?!"

"Raven says he's prepared to go out and look for her again," Ryan said. Now that Conrad had come to stand with Raven and Ryan, Ryan could speak without shouting across the forest.

"I'll tell dad, that is, if he didn't overhear that little exchange. You go and find Cindy."

"Right." Raven nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want some help?" Ryan asked.

"No. I've always been able to find her before."

"Oh. Okay, suit yourself. Good luck, Raven."

Raven smiled slightly, he was starting to get to like Ryan. Turning, with a last wave back at his brother and new friend, Raven set off into the forest. Cindy had always seemed to be looking for him the other times she'd run off, so all Raven thought he had to do was start looking for her. Looking back, he found that he was too far away from the others to see anything but the trees that surrounded them.

Sighing, Raven continued on his way. After twenty minutes, even Raven's patience was starting to wear thin.

"Cindy, I know you're out here somewhere. Everyone's waiting for us, so why don't you make it easy and come out already?" Raven listened, but only the silence of the forest answered him.

Raven ran a hand through his short gray hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling it just hard enough to distract himself from his growing annoyance. Hissing through his teeth, Raven continued to search.

"C'mon Cindy, this really isn't funny anymore!" Raven had never been known to shout, so this display was very unlike him. But since his tolerance for Cindy's antics was reaching an all-time low, this was only natural. "Quit playing around! I meant it Cindy, these games of yours are getting on my nerves!"

Raven stopped, listening to the echoes of his voice as they faded into the background noise of the forest. Just as he was approaching a particularly tall tree, Raven heard something. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard, though in some respects it was similar to the phasers he had heard sometimes on Star Trek.

His last thought was: _Who would have brought a toy phaser this far into the woods?_ Then, a sharp but somehow not entirely painful burning sensation rushed through his body. The last thing Raven saw was the trunk of the tree he had been looking at, seemingly rushing forward to hit him. Then, nothing but blackness.

Raven woke up with a bad headache, and, once he opened his eyes, the really unpleasant feeling of being blinded. A few seconds spent groping for his missing sunglasses, and Raven was able to open his eyes without feeling like they would be burned out of their sockets. A sound carried on the wind caught his attention just then, crunching. Like someone was walking on the thick carpet of leaves.

The sound was coming closer.

"Cindy, is that you?!"

No answer. Raven wasn't even sure that whoever was coming could even hear him yet.

"I really should warn you, I know karate!" Raven shouted to the as-yet-unknown person. If it really _was_ Cindy, she'd probably get a good laugh out of that.

Again, no answer. The sound just kept coming closer, and Raven began to wonder if Cindy was going to try to sneak up on him. She was probably going to double-back somewhere, since she now knew that he was on to her. It's what he would do, after all. _I'll just have to outthink her,_ Raven smirked.

Slipping off his backpack, then crouching down to the ground so as not to make any noise when he put it on the ground, Raven took a moment to reorient himself after having such a heavy weight taken off his back. Once Raven was sure he could stand and walk without falling over backwards, Raven started to slink over to where the sounds of footfalls and crunching leaves were coming from.

Making as little noise as he could, Raven moved slowly forward, hoping not to alert Cindy that he was coming. When he was close enough to see the silhouette of the person, Raven pounced.

"Gotcha!"

The person who Raven tackled, though it _was_ a female, and though she _was_ blonde, was not Cindy Connor. Once Raven noticed that this girl wasn't his friend, all his shyness about meeting new people rushed to the fore. Jumping off the girl like he'd just been stung by a bee, Raven turned away.

"I'm – I'm very sorry I did that," Raven said, speaking hurriedly, his head turned as if he was talking to the trees instead of to the girl. "I thought you were someone I knew."

"Oww," she moaned.

"Are you hurt?" Raven asked, snap-turning back to the girl. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

As the girl lying on the ground sat up, Raven noticed that she reminded him a lot of how Cindy used to be. Cindy used to be the kind of person who would get mad if you so much as bumped into her, and the way this new girl was glaring at him reminded him of those times Cindy would go off on someone for getting in her way. _She looks more like Shara, though._ It was true too, with her long blonde hair and gymnast's build; she did indeed resemble Raven's younger sister. She even looked about the same age. She was a lot taller, though. Even taller than him, or she would have been if both of them had been standing up.

"Why don't you watch where you're going?!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," Raven said again.

"All right, all right." She sighed. "Could you just help me up?"

"Sure."

Raven pulled her back to her feet. Sure enough, she was about a foot-and-a-half taller than him. Then he noticed what she was wearing. His first thought was:_ Why would anyone be doing barefoot gymnastics this far out in the forest?_

She seemed a bit confused though. No, make that a lot confused. As if even _she_ didn't know why she was wandering around in the forest, barefoot, and wearing a black leotard.

"Are you lost?"

"Yeah, I think I am," she muttered, looking hurriedly back over her shoulder. She seemed frightened of something. "There was some kind of a monster following me, but I think it's gone now."

__

A monster? Okay, that's a new one. Raven didn't give her the same sideways look that one of his brothers might have, but that was only because he didn't want to offend her again. Still, even if she _was_ wandering around in the forest, spouting delusional-sounding nonsense, there was no real reason for her to look as crazy as she sounded. _Who knows, she might even be telling the truth._ As incredibly unlikely as _that_ scenario was.

"Wait here," Raven said, already turning away, intending to head for his backpack.

She grabbed his arm, arresting him in midmotion.

"You're not going to just leave me here, are you?" she demanded.

"Of course not. I just think that you should be a bit more… properly equipped for wandering around in the forest."

"I'm coming with you." She had a very definite way of speaking, no doubts about anything. There were times that Raven admired that, and times that it just annoyed Raven to no end. Time would tell if the girl belonged to the latter category or the former.

They reached his backpack without any more words being exchanged. Raven didn't mind this, as it allowed him time to mentally run through the clothes he had packed for this trip. None of his pants would fit on a person as tall as she was, or if they did, they wouldn't look very good. She did look as if one of his shirts might fit passably.

"I'm going to let you borrow some of my clothes. But they might look a little strange on you," Raven warned.

"Stranger than this?" the girl tugged at her leotard. "Let's do it."

Once she said that, she seemed to grow even more confused. It was as if that particular phrase was familiar to her, somehow. _First things first,_ Raven reminded himself._ I'll get her dressed normally, and _then_ I can ask her to tell me her life story. If she can even remember it, that is._

The girl was acting like a lot of the amnesia victims Raven had read about in various books. She seemed to be displaying most – if not all – of the symptoms. Raven wondered if she was really suffering from amnesia, or if she was just a very good actress.

"Um, you can pick out whatever clothes you want, but I only have one pair of shoes that you can borrow," Raven said.

"Sure, thanks." Raven noted that she seemed to be focusing more on the contents of his pack than on him. That was fine, better that she knew what she was going to wear.

Once she had finished getting the clothes she was going to wear, Raven turned and began digging through his pack for the old, extra pair of shoes he'd brought along on a whim. _It's a good thing I decided to take these along,_ he thought. Raven had read often in one book or another about the characters feeling destiny at work, or something to that effect. _Maybe that's why I brought those shoes._

Raven wanted to laugh, but he figured that that would only further confuse the girl he was trying to help. She was dressed by now, he noticed, wearing his old gray tee shirt with the blue outline of a tiger on it. She had also chosen to wear a pair of his jeans, despite the fact that they ended about nine inches from her ankles.

"You look good – I think," Raven commented. "Here, I think these should fit you." He handed her the shoes.

"Oh, slip-ons, good. I can handle these." She quickly put them on. "They look nice, thanks."

"Are they tight?"

"No. Well, at least not very. Anyway, they look nice."

"I could loan you another pair," Raven suggested.

"Don't bother." She waved him off. "I like these. By the way, what's your name?"

"I'm Raven Carter. Who are you?"

"I'm… going to have to get back to you on that. Honestly, I'm not even sure myself about that."

"Why don't you come and find me again when you find out who you are? I'd like to hear how your story ends. I'm not all that fond of cliffhangers, after all."

"You'll still be here?"

"Yeah. For the next three weeks, at least."

"Okay," she said. "I'll come and find you when I get my memory back. And then we can talk some more." She grinned. "After all, you're not the only one who doesn't like cliffhangers."

The two of them laughed, then quickly sobered up.

"Is that a promise?" Raven asked, still smiling.

"It sure is!" she held out her right hand, they shook. Then she smiled wider.

"Raven! Where are you?!" he heard Conrad calling from the forest. "We found Cindy! Don't tell me we're going to have to go find you too!"

"Well, I guess I have to-" Raven had turned in the direction that his brother's voice had been coming from, but when he turned back the girl was nowhere in sight. "-go now."

Raven's lips curled into a soft, thoughtful halfsmile. _I guess I'll see you soon, mystery girl._

"Raven!"

"I'm coming, Conrad! I'm coming!"

Raven picked up his backpack, resettled it on his shoulders, and headed off to find his family.


	68. Capture

It was now late afternoon, and the eleven of them were starting to get more than a little tired of all the walking they had been doing.

"Okay, break time," Fritz said, slipping his backpack off and dropping it on the ground. Then Fritz plopped down in front of it so he could use it as a backrest.

"Now there's an idea," Cain said, dropping to the ground and rubbing his arms. "I swear, that stupid backpack chafes me on purpose."

"Complain, complain, complain," Conrad teased. "Anyway, _you're_ the one who packed the thing in the first place."

The rest of them sat down, knowing that they wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Snacks were taken out, and the stop was turned into a sort of picnic. As they ate, they began to talk about the things they had seen.

"I swear, that hawk was giving me the evil eye," Ness said, ripping a bite out of his granola bar and chewing it with a mildly annoyed look on his face.

"Is this the same red-tailed hawk that you swore has been following you around for days?" Ryan asked.

"I'm not sure, but I really wouldn't be surprised if it was."

Ryan laughed.

"What's so funny, oh purple-haired one?"

Ryan managed to control himself, somehow. "I'm sorry. But that just sounded so funny." Ryan flashed Ness a lopsided grin.

Ness rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically.

"Okay, rest break's over," Ulysses said. This statement was accompanied, of course, by a load chorus of groans. "Come on, come on. There are still a lot of things to see before we set up camp again tonight."

"Yeah," Cain grumped. "Like the spectacle of my feet falling right off my ankles as I walk."

"Oh _come on_, Cain. It can't be as bad as all _that_." Fritz grinned, knowing he would get a rise out of Cain.

"It very well can, and it very well is." Cain stuck his nose in the air, and Fritz playfully punched him in the shoulder.

"Will you two put a sock in it already?! Sheesh, you're driving me nuts," Conrad said.

"Just nuts?" Cain asks, smirking. "Hmmm, we're going to have to try a bit harder, aren't we, Fritz?"

"Yeah, I was really hoping for stark, raving insanity myself," Fritz said, chuckling.

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny," Conrad said, rolling his eyes.

They came to a rather large clearing, and Fritz suddenly felt a cold chill run up his spine. There was something off about this place, Fritz didn't know what it was, but he had no really great desire to find out. Fritz knew that if he said anything to the others, they would just think he was making a joke, so Fritz just resigned himself to hoping that they would be walking really, really fast through this particular area.

***

As the eleven of them made their way through the clearing, Cindy's foot caught on something. She hadn't been paying all that much attention to her surroundings, and so the sudden stumble came as a rather disagreeable surprise.

"Ahhh-umph!"

"Sis, you all right?" Devon asked, having caught Cindy before she could do more than startle herself.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, Dev."

"Hey, what else are big brothers for?" Devon asked, grinning down at her.

That was when all hell broke loose. From the ground around them burst an uncountable number of vines. Most of them were knocked off their feet, and the few who remained standing were really too shocked by this sudden turn of events to be of much help.

Ness and Cain were two of those few that hadn't been knocked over by the sudden upsurge of the vines. Now, the twins stared at what remained of the ground in shock and incredulous horror. Each looking to the other for silent confirmation, then heading deeper into the devastated landscape to try and help their friends.

"What the hell was that?" Conrad demanded, looking around at the torn-up remains of the forest floor.

He was surprised that the straps on his backpack hadn't dislocated his shoulders, not that he was going to complain or anything stupid like that. Conrad took off his pack, knowing that the weight would only be a liability, especially if more of those… vines showed up._ What the hell_ were_ those things, anyway?_ Conrad wondered.

Before any of the others could even _think_ about getting to their feet, a second wave of vines burst from the remains of the ground. Those that were still on the ground dogded the vines as best they could, trying to cling to the few scraps of solid ground amid the maelstrom. Devon and Ryan were the first ones to disappear beneath the vines, pulled underground to await who-knew-what.

The scene quickly turned even more chaotic, as more and more vines burst out of the ground, and those that were already on the surface began to thrash about wildly.

"How do we fight – look out!" Ness cut himself off, tackling his brother just before the stream of acid that suddenly shot out of the ground would have hit him.

The acid spray instead hit the tree behind them, eating off most of the bark from the upper third, and causing almost all of the young shoots growing out of that part of the tree to fall off and die. The twins were both breathing hard, seeing what they had so narrowly escaped. Neither said a word, instead splitting up to try and help their other friends.

More acid was fired from the hidden spouts underground. Most of them were able to dodge, but Cindy wasn't so fortunate. She screamed as the acid splashed across her calves and feet, burning the exposed skin and eating away most of her shoes. Cindy was pulled underground a few seconds later, her mind still a bit hazy from the pain.

Ness was trying to get to his dad's backpack, where Ulysses had packed a radio to use on the off chance that they got lost. The vines, however, seemed all too determined to hold him back. One of them had wrapped around his right ankle, and was slowly pulling him back into the center of the clearing. Ness still had his walking stick, and was even now trying to use it to pry himself loose.

Ness had taken rough terrain, and the occasional wild animal into account when he'd made it. It was made of strong wood, and had a sharp tip that he could use to defend himself in a pinch. Right now, that sharp tip was being used to try and chop through the vine encircling Ness' leg. Most of the vine was still intact, but Ness was slowly making progress.

***

Cain meanwhile, was trying to help Raven, who had been injured by the vines. Raven had been badly cut on his right side, and then the injury had been compounded by the acid spray that had splashed him. By the time Cain had found him, Raven had barely been able to move. Cain was carrying Raven on his back, while still trying to stay away from the thrashing vines.

Since he was too busy looking out for attacks from the front, Cain didn't notice the one vine behind him until it whipped him on the back of his knees, dropping him and Raven both to the ground. Before Cain could get a handhold, the ground dropped out from underneath him.

***

One of the other vines, seemingly coming to the rescue of its fellow, had grabbed the walking stick in Ness' hands. Ness had already had a good, solid grip on it, and was now engaged in the oddest game of tug-of-war he'd ever been in. The vine had wrapped around the middle of the stick, and Ness had moved his left hand under the vine's grip, trying to keep hold of the only weapon he had.

The two of them, Ness and the vine, both had equal strength. Something had to give, and that something turned out to be Ness' home made walking stick. It snapped in half, leaving Ness holding on to two shorter halves. Despite the fact that Ness was somewhat attached to the walking stick – he'd made it himself after all – he also knew that holding onto the feathered top half wouldn't do him any good here.

At least the bottom half had a rudimentary weapon attached. Ness tossed the useless top half away and gripped the bottom half two-handed like it was a sword. It didn't do him much good, as one of the vines had already wrapped around his neck. Pulling suddenly, the vine choked him, pulling Ness underground seconds later.

***

Ulysses was also trying to get to his backpack, but he lacked even the rudimentary weapon that Ness had possessed, and so he wasn't doing as well as his son. Ulysses had been tangled up by the vines, and it wasn't long before he joined his sons underground.


	69. Darkon’s Game

Darkon watched with predatory intensity as the last of this new, rather large group of humans fell into the trap he had set. They were a diverse group, ranging in age from what Darkon recognized as more teenagers, to the one old male that Darkon highly doubted would survive.

They seemed frightened, or at least some of them did, the others were still trying to help what Darkon assumed were their friends. That was an admirable trait, but the attempt was entirely futile. Darkon knew this better than another might have. He himself had once tried to fight off a teknoplant.

The humans were being captured, despite the valiant efforts of their friends. Such loyalty could hardly go unnoticed, especially for one who had very little else _to_ notice. Darkon hissed, remembering again that he was suddenly an invalid.

__

As soon as I find the person that did this to me, I will take great pleasure in torturing them to death, Darkon seethed silently. Darkon leaned back against the vines that made up his new throne, growing a little bored with the humans' antics. _At least I know that they will make good warriors, if nothing else._

The last of the humans had finally been captured, and now Darkon relaxed, settling down to observe and monitor the testing. _Ness, Cain, Raven, Ryan, Cindy, Shara, Devon, Conrad, Ulysses, Fritz and Katherine. Hmm, apparently most of them are family, and the rest of them are friends of that family. Interesting._

That would explain why they were all so quick to protect each other. Sentients, in Darkon's experience, would far more readily sacrifice someone they didn't know than give up a friend. They were screaming now, like the young human Jessy had screamed, but with so many different voices it seemed like a kind of music. The music of madness, perhaps.

Darkon sensed it when the female human named Cindy gave up her fight, her last fading screams overlapped by those of the other humans. Now there were only ten voices raised against the ever-present silence underground.

Darkon wondered how many of them would survive to the end of the process.


	70. Release

Ulysses could hear his children and their friends screaming all around him, helpless to do anything about it because he was trapped himself. Ulysses had tried to hold back his own screams, if only to offer the kids some hope. But Ulysses had never felt pain like this before. In fact, to him, his voice seemed to be the loudest of all of them.

Just as Ulysses was sure that the agony would drive him insane, the pod that had closed around him suddenly burst open. As he fell to the ground, Ulysses wondered what would happen to him. He found that he knew about these creatures, they were called the Radam Empire.

They were aliens, but there seemed to be only one currently on the planet. It was strange to Ulysses when he thought about how much this day had changed from how it had started out. He could still hear his children screaming, and hated himself for not being able to do anything about it.

Noticing that his clothes were completely gone, Ulysses started looking around the perimeter of the area for something else to wear. The place was so strange, so _alien_. The plants were like something out of _Invasion of the Body-Snatchers_, and Ulysses now knew that the Radam Empire used specifically engineered plants for almost everything.

Ulysses supposed that it wouldn't be too far off to call the Radam body snatchers too, since that was pretty much what they did. Of course, the Radam didn't replace you with a pod-person that acted exactly like you did, but with an evil armored warrior that only shared some of your personality traits. Mostly the bad ones.

I wish there was something I could do to help them, Ulysses thought.


	71. Voices

__

Perhaps there is, a mysterious, telepathic voice answered.

Ulysses knew about telepathy, he knew it was the way that the Radam communicated across great distances, or when they didn't want to be noticed. _Who are you?!_ Ulysses demanded.

__

There is no need to shout, I can hear you quite well, the voice paused, seemed to consider something, then spoke again. _As to who I am, you may call me Tekkaman Starfire._

Tekkaman? Ulysses wondered. Then he remembered something that had been ingrained into his mind, before the Radam had rejected him. The Tekkamen were the exact opposite of the Radam Empire; the two races had been enemies ever since the first Radam Teknoman had been created.

__

How can I be sure you're really a Tekkaman?

I suppose you cannot, Starfire said, not sounding offended in the least._ You must either trust me, or ignore me. I cannot tell you what to do, I only hope that you do not regret your choices._

Well, I don't think that's something a Teknoman would say. You said your name was Starfire, right?

Yes. That is what I said.

Can you help me?

I will do what I can.

Ulysses didn't think that sounded very reassuring. _All right, but what can you do, Starfire? Can you save them?_

Only some, and even then I would not be able to remove them from this base.

Why not?

Starfire's voice lapsed into silence; he seemed to be considering not whether he would answer the question, but just _how_. Ulysses didn't understand why such a simple question would make the Tekkaman react like that.

__

For the simple reason that I am no longer on this plane of existence.

What do you mean by that?

In the crudest of terms, I am dead.

Ulysses said nothing, not knowing how to respond to a revelation like that. _That's… too bad._ Ulysses thought that that particular phrase was wholly and completely inadequate, but what did one say to someone who had just told you that?

__

I have grown accustomed to my situation, but I thank you for your sympathy.

Well, you're welcome. Now, what can you do for my family?

I can… help them in such a way that the Radam will not know until it is too late. If they ever realize it at all.

Let's hope for the latter, Ulysses paused._ All right, do it._

Tell me which ones.

How many can you do?

Two, maybe three.

Why so few?

Telepathic control of Radam biotechnology requires a great deal of mental strength, as well as a pre-established connection to that which you wish to control. Without that… control is both hard and uncertain.

You mean, there's a chance that you won't be able to do this?

Yes. And there are also ways of finding out that a teknoplant has been tampered with. I hope to avoid detection, however…

There's no real way to be sure of that. Ulysses finished. Looking back at the rows of teknopods, Ulysses made his decision. _In this case, a slim chance is better than none at all. Do it._


	72. Making Choices

__

Very well, tell me those that you wish to have rescued.

My sons Ness and Cain, and my daughter Shara.

Ulysses didn't know what he'd expected, so when he looked around and saw that nothing seemed to be happening, he was understandably worried._ Did something go wrong? Starfire?_

… No… there is nothing… wrong.

What's happened to you?

The process… is very draining… but I will… do you this one last service…

Starfire's voice was fading in and out, as if he was a radio transmitter and Ulysses was getting out of range. _What?_

You… must escape this place… The Radam… will kill you… if you stay…

Ulysses saw the vines covering the western side of the base open, and he quickly raced toward the newly created opening. Then he stopped, turning to look back at the rows upon rows of teknoplants. _No one deserves to stay here, not even if they're dead._

Trusting Starfire to keep the hole open, Ulysses headed back into the rows of teknoplants. The screams had quieted by now, but that wasn't as comforting as it might have been if Ulysses hadn't known what happened to the survivors.

There was one body still lying on the floor of the base, Ulysses took it and ran. This time, he didn't look back.


	73. Guiding Evil

Darkon smiled under his helmet, scanning the minds of his surviving charges. The one named Fritz Wallace would make an excellent guide. He did not care in the slightest what happened to this dirtball. From his memories, Darkon knew that Fritz had once described the Grand Canyon – a rather interesting geological feature as far as Darkon was concerned – as a hole in the ground.

The only thing Fritz really cared about were his friends and family. Even the rest of his species merited no more than a few snide remarks, especially the historical figures. Darkon gave a single order to the teknoplant holding Fritz.

__

Ohhhh, what hit me? Fritz slowly opened his eyes; feeling like someone had rubbed his skin raw with sandpaper and then doused him with saltwater. Memory returned slowly; the vines, the acid, falling what seemed like forever only to have the breath knocked out of him when he'd landed. _Where the hell am I, anyway?_

That's a very good question… Fritz Michael Wallace.

Huh? Who're you?

Would you like the short answer, or the long one? drawled that strange voice that Fritz could only hear in his head.

The short one, if you don't mind. As soon as he finished that thought, it was like he'd just been hit in the forehead with a speeding bullet train. With a weak cry, Fritz dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal, shivering ball. _That hurt!_

Wasn't it supposed to? the voice – Darkon, Fritz now knew – asked fake-sweetly.

Fritz knew now just what they had inadvertently stumbled into. _Shit, all I wanted to do was have a nice, restful camping trip. I knew we shouldn't have come this way-!_

Poor little Fritzy, Darkon cooed. _Maybe you should try to look on the bright side. Isn't that what Conrad always said, that you should try to look on the bright side more often?_

I'm sure he wasn't referring to being enslaved by evil, body snatching aliens, Fritz spat acidly.

Darkon laughed silently, having Fritz be his guide on this planet was sure to make things more interesting, if nothing else. It was then that Darkon made a decision. If he was going to play the conqueror, he might as well do it right.


	74. Threads of Destiny

Darkon chuckled softly. It wasn't as if he really cared about right and wrong, but what was the fun in a game if you knew the outcome? Since his mind was more powerful than it had ever been, Darkon decided to block his othersense.

He had never tried anything like that before; his sense of future events was as natural to him as his sense of hearing. But for this game, Darkon wanted to play with a handicap. It could only make things a little more entertaining. After all, what was there on this world that could stop him?

****

Seven weeks later…

Teknoman Gunnar, who had once been Fritz Wallace and was now the guide for the most dangerous creature in several galaxies, walked through the woods alone. He had been noticing that he had been getting faster, and also that he was stronger than he had ever been before. It was a small consolation for not being human anymore, and he still wished that none of this had happened.

Gunnar kept going, staring at the leaf-litter on the ground as he walked. He didn't know if anyone cared that he and his only remaining family member, as well as all of his closest friends had disappeared some time ago.

__

Gunnar.

Gunnar shuddered, still not used to having Darkon's voice inside his mind. Darkon didn't seem to care if he made Gunnar uncomfortable, though, and the Tekno-Warlord continued talking.

__

I have detected another group of humans in this forest, similar to the one you were part of. However, this one is significantly smaller. It appears to be only one family. You can leave the parents, as I highly doubt that they would survive.

Gunnar didn't even take a step. He was _not_ going to subject any more innocent people to this kind or horror.

__

Oh, so you're going to defy my, are you my guide?

Yes, Gunnar said smugly._ I am._

Well, that is your choice of course, Darkon purred, sounding supremely unconcerned._ But you should know that defiance has a price._

Gunnar didn't know what Darkon meant by that, but in a minute he'd wish he never found out.

It started with a sharp pinprick in his right temple, and then Gunnar felt as if someone with a malicious sense of humor was shoving burning daggers deep into various places in his skull. And then, as if that kind of pain wasn't bad enough, the next time Gunnar tried to take a breath, he couldn't.

Gunnar had fallen to the ground when the pain had started getting worse. Tears of pain sprang to his eyes, as Gunnar dug his fingernails into the bark of a tree to try and keep himself somewhat upright and anchored in reality.

The pain went on for what seemed like an eternity, and Gunnar had almost passed out from lack of oxygen by the time Darkon saw fit to release him from that torture.

__

Keep this little lesson in mind, my guide. I don't like to repeat myself.

Taking large, deep breaths, Gunnar didn't answer. He didn't want to risk pissing Darkon off again.

****

End Prologue


End file.
